St Patrick's Day Eve
by forever fan
Summary: A trip to England for a wedding. But who's getting married? Last of a holiday series of stories. It may help to read the stories in order.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: St. Patrick's Day Eve**

**Author: Forever Fan**

**Rating: T**

**Spoilers: none **

**Category: Romance/Supernatural**

**Disclaimer: This property belongs to David Gerber Productions and FOX Television. Lyrics of Cole Porter used with deep respect but without permission. I make no profit and intend no infringement. **

**Summary: A trip to England for a wedding. But who's getting married? **

**Last of a holiday series of stories. It may help to read the stories in order. **

**Feedback: Yes, please**

The flight from California to New York had been tiring enough, but the transatlantic leg of the journey from New York to London seemed to be taking forever. The kids' enthusiasm had worn off despite the excitement of their overnight stay in New York City. Riding the subway, taking a whirlwind tour of the city and seeing a Broadway play seemed to have taken a toll. The kids had been uncharacteristically cranky at the airport, but at least they were all asleep now. Sprawled across three seats they were a mess of limbs and blankets and finally seemed peaceful on the overnight flight.

Trying to read the book he had brought, Harold Everett scowled at the page and thought maybe the children were just reacting to his mood. The last month had been one of the most difficult, stressful periods of his life, and the worst part was just beginning. On Valentine's Day Phoebe had announced she was breaking their hours-old engagement to return to England to marry Cholmondeley Featherstonehaugh. In many ways it had been a worse blow than his wife's death. Mary had been ill for a long time, and he had been prepared for her death. Although it had been devastating, her death had been inevitable. However, Phoebe's leaving seemed to be her choice, and no matter how many times she had tried to explain that she had no real say in the matter; he couldn't yet find it in his heart to completely forgive her.

Intellectually he understood that her family and Cholmondeley's were the providers of stability and wealth for an entire community. If their "business in blood" contract wasn't fulfilled through their marriage covenant the lives of thousands could be ruined. But rationally he just couldn't understand it. How could any community, in the late twentieth century, be tied to an archaic, medieval system that honored such a thing as a "business in blood" arrangement? How could such a thing exist for centuries, with not one modern-day mind ever attempting to bring things up to date? The whole thing was insanity, and the fact that he was somehow expected to sit back and accept her betrothal wasn't something he was able to do with good grace.

In his usual practical minded way Hal had researched this type of "contract" and even consulted a university expert in ancient cultures. He had found this kind of thing was rare but not unheard of, except it was a system thought extinct. The anthropologist Hal had consulted thought it fascinating and asked more questions than he had answered. He had even gone so far as to tell Hal that he envied his opportunity to visit such a culture and to experience their customs in person. Leaving the man's office he thought he may have found it interesting too if he were reading about it in "Smithsonian" magazine, but not when it affected his private life.

Hal looked up from the page he hadn't turned in thirty minutes to note that Phoebe had fallen asleep in the seat next to him. Watching her still features, he wasn't sure if he was glad she was resting, or angry that she could sleep when he was still so upset. Vaguely he wondered how much sleep he had gotten in the past month. He had been spending more time at work and secluded in his home office; however, it seemed between being angry with her, avoiding her, and desiring her he hadn't done anything but think of her. They had talked this thing to death, and he had reluctantly agreed to come to England to visit her village and see what she was describing to him first hand. He trusted she was telling him the truth, and he wasn't certain seeing the facts in this case was going to give him any peace. Looking away from her beautiful face, he realized his hurt and anger was likely to continue for a very, very long time.

His children seemed to sense all of what was happening. He wanted to believe that he and Phoebe had kept their relationship a secret from them, but the kids had noticed the lingering looks and the frequent touches. They had even made comments to him that they wanted him to get married again and that they wanted more brothers and sisters. The children knew about their New Year's Eve date, and seemed to leave them alone during the long winter evenings. They adored Phoebe, and Hal knew they would have all been very happy to have her as their mother. Of course they were terribly upset to be losing her now, and didn't find him a source of support to them in their sadness. Maybe that was why they didn't seem to be acting like themselves now. No, that wasn't entirely true. The children were acting as they had in the months after Mary's death when he had been emotionally unavailable to them in dealing with their loss. He now knew that as hard as he was taking the loss of another woman he loved, he hadn't fully realized how difficult it was for them to lose their "mother" for a second time. What kind of a father did that make him?

"You are a wonderful father," Phoebe said quietly.

Hal turned to see her looking at him with smoky blue eyes. In the dim lights of the cabin, she looked as soft and vulnerable as she had on all of those evenings they had spent alone in front of the fire. Her hair was messy against the headrest, and she was close enough for him to breathe in her delicate lavender scent. Not for the first time, he thought it probably hadn't been a good idea for them to travel together. The close quarters, the fun sightseeing…they had been mistaken for a family several times. And each time someone referred to her as his wife, it brought him a fresh stab of pain.

"I'm sorry," she said the hundredth or the thousandth time in a month. "I thought it would be best for the children if I spent as much time with them as I could."

Over the years he had become accustomed to her gentle intuitions but now when she anticipated his thoughts it hurt him. What had been so difficult to understand and get used to was now something he didn't know how he would manage to live without. Torn between his hurt and anger and his deep love for her he didn't trust saying anything. Not sure if it was the right thing to do, he reached for her hand.

The touch was charged. They hadn't touched in so long that all of their restrained emotions seemed alive in the meeting of their fingertips. She closed her eyes against the powerful waves of feelings, and he knew he should pull away, but couldn't. What was passing between them didn't seem real to him; it was arousing and calming, the way she had always affected him. She opened her eyes and he thought he could see a flash of silvery light there when suddenly he heard in his mind… _always_…

"Don't." Hal pulled his hand from hers abruptly. He caught the hurt in her face before he turned away.

"Sir?" the stewardess was bending over them. "Would you or your wife like a beverage?"

Speechless, he stared at the woman.

Phoebe answered for them. "Nothing now, Miss. Thank you."

They spent the rest of the flight in sleepless silence.

XXXXXXXXX

They had been met at the airport by the family chauffeur. The drive from London to Plymouth was over three hours to the south, but the scenery was breathtaking. Phoebe explained they were passing through some of the most fertile land in all of Great Britain. She described Devon was the only county to have two coasts, and that some of the most beautiful beaches in the world were only a short drive from her family's estate. Her descriptions of the cliffs, the moors and the history of the area made the long drive pass quickly. The children listened raptly and asked many questions. As usual, their nanny seemed to make any story animated and come alive for them. Butch and Prudence were particularly interested in the local lore about haunted places while young Hal was more interested in how the rural Celts in the area had been largely unchanged during the Roman invasion. He would be studying ancient Rome in school after the spring break, and it was typical for him to study subjects ahead of the curriculum. Their father participated in the discussion, and tried to match the children's enthusiasm, all the while resisting his emotional response to Phoebe's soft, musical voice and the charm of her tales.

"There is a lovely sheep farm that was part of the Duke of Somerset's estate, near the village of Berry Pomeroy. The area is famous for its haunted castle…"

"Nanny…" Hal began in a warning tone.

"Quite right, Professor," she said quickly. Then she told the children: "There are so many stories about haunted areas and ghostly happenings and I can't remember any one that has been proved true."

"Exactly," he said, nodding to his children.

"Of course, I can't remember any one that has been proved false, either."

Prudence giggled and Butch grinned. Their brother just rolled his eyes.

The car turned and began its journey down another long ribbon of road. When the family looked out of the car windows, each child made an audible gasp.

"Oh, Nanny," Prudence breathed, "it's just like in a fairy story!"

"Wow!" Butch was wide eyed.

"Is this the place?" Hal asked, leaning across his brother to stare out of the window at the rolling green hills.

"Yes," Phoebe smiled at them. "This is the village. We're home."

Wide stretches of farmland seemed to go on endlessly in all directions. Soft blankets of emerald fields were full of cows, sheep and horses grazing peacefully. Small barns dotted the countryside, and in the distance were groves of fruit trees and plowed lands. As the car followed the downward slope of the road, in front of them they could see a grouping of white buildings that was the village. To the east was a cluster of low structures with active smoke stacks.

"That's the candy factory," Phoebe pointed in the distance. "Open your windows."

Doing as instructed, the scent of chocolate immediately filled the inside of the car. The grinning children took deep breaths of the sweet smelling air.

"A candy factory!" Butch sniffed. "I'm getting hungry."

Prudence climbed on Phoebe's lap. "This really is a fairyland. Can we stop and get some chocolate now?"

"No, Darling," her nanny replied, "we're going home for lunch now, but maybe we can visit tomorrow. Besides, I can assure you there will be candy at the house."

The car turned again and drove beneath a canopy of trees. Hal could see a large stately home before them that on closer view seemed to be more like a castle than a manor. Crossing another wide field, they drove through a hedged area, circled a huge, sparkling fountain, and then stopped in front of the stairs leading to a wooden double door.

The children stared open-mouthed at the house. Hal had to admit to feeling shock himself.

Astonished, he asked Phoebe. "This is your family home?"

"Yes," she smiled at him as the chauffeur opened the car door for her. "Welcome home."

As the family exited the car, the front doors of the manor were thrown opened and they were met with excited barks and shouts. Two auburn haired Irish setters bounded towards them followed by a middle-aged couple and a young, petite woman.

"Phoebe, darling!" The man shouted. He rushed down the stairs to her and lifted her off of her feet in a huge embrace. Although he was nearly as wide as he was tall, the gray haired, ruddy faced man looked like Phoebe's Uncle Alfred in every other way. She had all but admitted to Hal that Uncle Alfred was not a blood relative, but the resemblance was uncanny. The woman next to him had graying blond hair, and her lovely, delicate features gave her away as no one else but Phoebe's mother. She waited patiently until her husband had finished his effusive hugs and kisses, then took her daughter into her arms.

"My precious Phoebe," Mrs. Figalilly held her closely and the swell of tears was in her voice. After a moment she released her and the sweet-faced, fair younger woman reached to embrace Phoebe.

"Mother, Father, Cecily," Phoebe stood back and indicated the Everett family. "This is Professor Harold Everett, and his children: Hal, Butch and Prudence. Professor, children, these are my parents Anthony and Rose Figalilly and my dear sister Cecily."

Hal stepped forward and offered his hand to Phoebe's father, "Mr. Figalilly."

Anthony pumped his hand. "Pleased to meet you, son. Pleased to finally meet you and welcome you to our home. We've heard a lot about you from various family members and of course, our Phoebe here."

"Yes," Rose came forward and took his hand gently. "So wonderful you could come and bring your lovely children." She looked with affection at the three young blonds. "We'd hoped to meet you sooner, given what the family has told us."

Hal laughed. "Well, I've certainly enjoyed meeting any member of the Figalilly family."

"Including the clinkers?" Anthony asked.

"Father!" Phoebe admonished, taking his arm. "You are getting as bad as Uncle Horace."

Cecily reached out a hand to Hal. "I'm very happy to meet you and your children, Professor Everett."

He nodded. "I'm very glad to meet you, Cecily. I had no idea Nanny…ah, Phoebe, had a sister."

"Keeping me a secret, Phoebe?" She grinned at her sister and then looked at the children. "I can imagine you are all very hungry after your long trip. What would you say to some lunch? I'm sure Phoebe has told you we always have candy in the house."

Noting the children's enthusiastic nods, Phoebe told them, "First we get settled into your rooms and have a nice, nutritious lunch. Then you can have some candies." She leaned down to vigorously pet the two dogs that had settled at her side. "And you can get to know Alfredo and Violetta after lunch."

As the chauffeur carried the bags into the house he was met by a uniformed butler and maid. Anthony and Rose led the way indoors, and Cecily ushered in the children to show them to their rooms. Phoebe turned to see Hal's inquisitive expression.

"Mother and Father are opera fans," she explained.

"That's not it," he said, "I had no idea your family was so…so…"

"Eccentric?"

"No," he shook his head as he walked up the stairs beside her. "I expected that. But this house and all of this land…titled gentry?"

She smiled. "You lived with a Lady for two years and never knew it."

"No," he smiled back and it felt so good to share a warm moment again, "I always knew you were a lady."

XXXXXXXXX

After an extravagant lunch, Phoebe and Cecily escorted the Everett's around the farm. The dogs loped along as they toured the large dairy barns, and the children loved the chance to ride the horses. Everyone saddled up and Cecily led the way over the fields towards the orchards. She explained that the farm supplied most of the raw materials for the candy factory, including the fruits they produced. Some fruits were also used for the flavored liqueur chocolate centers.

Hal turned to Phoebe. "You mean this factory produces that candy?"

"What candy, Dad?" Butch asked. His father flushed and ignored him.

"Yes," Phoebe answered, keeping her eyes on her horse's reins. "The F&F candy is produced here."

"Figalilly and Featherstonehaugh," Cecily supplied.

"Mr. Feathers?" Prudence asked.

"Is it his candy factory?" Hal said, voicing his sister's and brother's question.

Cecily nodded. "The farm and the factory are the main source of employment in the village. Without our businesses there would be no income for over 2,500 people. And what we don't produce, like cocoa and sugar cane, we import. Our import contracts provide work for hundreds of others around the world. And our export contracts employ thousands of others. We are a rather modest endeavor, and these family-owed, family-run organic farms are quickly becoming a thing of the past. If we can't continue, the economic and environmental effects would be devastating. I'm sure Phoebe has explained this to you."

Hal looked at Phoebe and sighed. "She explained what she felt she needed to."

"What happens if you lose the farm?" Hal's eldest son asked. 

"If our contract is dissolved, the company that is threatening to buy us out will use single-crop agriculture and eventually ruin our soil." Cecily continued, "Their use of chemical fertilizers and pesticides will pollute our land, our water supply and our air. And the villagers they will reemploy to work the farm and the factory will be paid a fraction of the salaries they are currently making, with no chance of comparable medical or pension benefits."

"Gee," Butch said. "Why would you lose your contract?"

"The contract is a very old agreement since the time our people first settled in this area. There are certain things that must be done to uphold it," Cecily glanced at her sister, "and certain sacrifices that must be made to protect the community."

"You sound as if you know a lot about it," young Hal said to her.

"I'm one of the very few people who can read the contract in the old language," she told the Everett family. "I've been involved in negotiations with our solicitors and the executives of the outside company. Working for the family, I help to make the contracts with all of our employees and importers."

"Gee," Butch said again. "I guess you know all about the farm. How come you didn't travel around like Nanny did?"

Cecily looked around the farm and sighed wistfully. "I've always loved it here. All Figalilly's love it here." Turning to her sister, she said, "And now you and Cholmondeley will live here on the farm with Mother and Father and me."

"You're going to live here now, Nanny?" Prudence asked.

"Right here, Darling." Phoebe looked around with a sparkle of tears in her eyes. "Right here where I was born."

XXXXXXXXX

Cholmondeley Featherstonehaugh had already arrived when everyone returned from exploring the farm in the late afternoon. He came with boxes of candy: fruit filled ones for the children and liqueur filled ones for the adults. The high tea that was served was nearly as extravagant as lunch, and the Devonshire clotted cream was a rich and delicious treat, especially for the American guests.

"You can't have cream fresher than from the Figalilly farm," Cholmondeley said, while helping himself to more cream. "Anthony, I think your cows are the happiest ones in all of Devon."

Prudence giggled while balancing her cup of cocoa on a saucer. She had a smear of white cream above her lips.

"They might not be giggling, my girl, but they are happy," Anthony said to Prudence with a wink.

"Can we visit the candy factory tomorrow?" Butch asked Cholmondeley as he bit into a scone.

"I would be honored if you would," he included all three children and their father in his invitation. "It will also give you a chance to tour the entire village before the party tomorrow night."

"Party?" Hal asked.

"Yes, old man," Cholmondeley told him. "There's a dress party tomorrow night as a sort of formal wedding announcement. Didn't Phoebe tell you?" Looking from one to the other and noting Phoebe's guilty expression he said, "No worries. We'll find something appropriate for you to wear."

"Don't tell me," Hal was saying to Cholmondeley but looking at Phoebe, "it's…"

"…an old family tradition," Cholmondeley supplied.

"We hope it to be a lovely party," Rose said, fussing with the teapot, "but unfortunately, the children cannot attend."

At their disappointed look, a voice from the doorway announced, "Well, the party is much too late for growing children to still be awake. And when those children have been stuffing themselves with scones and candy all day they need to go to bed right after their supper."

A small, white-haired, lady leaning on a cane came into the room. "Phoebe, why are these children not resting after such a long day of travel?"

Phoebe jumped to her feet and rushed to the elderly woman. "Nanny Belle!" she cried and hugged her tightly. "I didn't know…"

"Do you think I'd miss the wedding of my darling Phoebe?" The woman's twinkling blue eyes smiled up at the younger woman as she studied her face. "You are so much in love, my dear."

"Children," Phoebe ignored the comment and turned to her three young charges. "This is Nanny Belle. She was my and Cecily's nanny when we were children."

"Now, don't you children think I can't still spot a misbehaving youngster," she said wagging her finger at them. "Those two girls were naughty enough to teach me a thing or two about children."

The children all grinned at one another and Hal smiled.

Clearing her throat self-consciously, Phoebe said to her, "I had no idea you would be here."

"Well, we knew you would love to see her, and we couldn't resist surprising you" her father said winking again.

"And Nanny Belle was always so wonderful with children," her mother said smiling at the older woman.

"Oh, yes. So don't you children mind, we'll have a nice time without going to the party tomorrow. Children and aged nannies ought to be in bed by then anyway." She slowly made her way across the room. "Now, I want to see your groom, Phoebe."

Cholmondeley stood to greet the woman, but she passed him and approached where Hal was sitting. "My dear," she said, taking his hand, "I know you love my Phoebe very much and will make her very happy. I wish you a long and joyous life together."

"No, no, Nanny Belle," Cholmondeley told her quickly, taking her arm. "I am Phoebe's groom. Don't you remember? I am Cholmondeley."

"Cholmondeley? Yes, I know you." The elderly woman peered at him. Then she looked at Hal. Shaking her head she said, "There must be some mistake."

"No, Nanny," Cecily came to her side. "Cholmondeley is Phoebe's betrothed. They are getting married on Friday."

"Cecily," the woman said looking at her and then at her sister. "I understand, my sweet. And there is some mistake."

"Come along, Nanny dear," Rose gently took her by the shoulder to lead her out of the room. "We'll have Charles bring your tea to your room so you can rest."

XXXXXXXXX

The visit to the candy factory was fun for the children and thought provoking for Hal. As he looked around at the hard-working candy manufacturers, he also remembered the many farm hands he had seen the day before. All of the people they had seen were friendly and appeared healthy and happy. During the tour, Hal could see they all appeared to genuinely enjoy their jobs. These were men and women with homes and families just like his, and the loss of their livelihoods could be a blow from which they might never recover. He knew what happened when communities were hit with joblessness and underemployment. And the air was so clean and the skies were so clear that it was difficult to believe such a large factory – or farm for that matter – had no negative effects on the environment. As he met these charming village inhabitants he didn't want to imagine the consequences to their lives should a large international company take over the area.

After the factory, Phoebe suggested they take a long walk through the village. Everywhere they looked the town was decked for the week-long St. Patrick's Day festival. Storybook as it appeared it had as many modern facilities as any larger town. There was a hospital, a municipal center, a recreation center, and a library. It also supported a post office, a small police department and a volunteer fire department. As they walked they saw the church and the schools, as well as many pubs and shops, and a beautiful local theatre. Phoebe explained there was quite an active community theatre, as well as many choral groups and bands. The small village center park also provided a place for outdoor concerts and performances, and many were scheduled that week. Again, the villagers all met them with warmth and serenity. Hal was finding it hard to imagine this place as anything other than the idyllic setting that it was and most likely always had been.

The day was cool but sunny, so they stopped in the center park to have a picnic. In the trunk of their car was the lunch Nanny Belle had insisted on packing for them, as well as a kite to occupy the children. Phoebe remarked how her nanny had always been keen on children getting lots of exercise, especially when they had just visited a candy factory. So after lunch all three children played vigorously with the kite in the brisk wind, their cheeks rosy and glowing.

Watching them from his seat on the blanket, Hal said, "I see now why you wanted me to come here. From home, it was easy not to care about these people, about their lives. From home, it was easy to only see how this situation would only affect me…affect us. But being here and realizing what could happen to this entire community…it would be a terrible injustice."

"I knew you would understand if you saw for yourself what was happening. The reality of what was at stake." Phoebe's voice was reflective. "I know you and I share the same values of honoring our society as well as our family. Fulfilling our responsibilities and not living only for our own happiness."

"Our own happiness," he echoed, looking at her. She was watching the children with sadness and longing in her eyes. The wind in her hair and the pink of her cheeks made her appear carefree, but he knew better. Still, she looked as if she belonged here. She had an easy way with the people here, and they had an easy way with her. Phoebe's status in the community, her wealth, her title, didn't seem to matter to the people who would stop her on the street to greet her happily. Although she always seemed at home anywhere, here she was truly home.

"I'm sorry," Hal whispered. "I'm sorry for making you feel so badly about doing what you know is right."

"If there was any possible way…" Phoebe began. Her eyes met his, and in their impossible blue he read her regret, and her love.

XXXXXXXXX

Hal stood in front of the dresser mirror and tried again to tie his tie. He didn't know if it was nervousness or just reluctance that made this simple task so difficult tonight. Facing a room full of Figalilly's as well as other people he didn't know was bad enough, but if this was a dry run for how he would feel on Phoebe's wedding day, he didn't know if he would last until Friday. Yanking on the tie again, he tried one more time, unsure if he felt gratitude or irritation that Cholmondeley had managed to find him a perfectly fitting tuxedo. Rationally he knew the other man was as much caught in this situation as he was, but that didn't stop him from wanting to strike out at him. After all, Cholmondeley was going to marry the woman he loved, and whether or not he was doing so willingly didn't make circumstances any better.

"Need some help, Dad?" His son Hal appeared in his bedroom doorway.

"Probably, but I'll get this eventually," he left the tie alone for a moment and concentrated on fastening his cuff links.

"Looking good, Dad," Butch remarked coming into the room with Prudence. He flopped on the bed next to his brother.

"Your room is pretty, Daddy," Prudence said, looking around.

"What? Oh yeah," her father said. The room was lavish. Plush tapestries on the walls, a king sized canopy bed, an overstuffed sofa and chair and a private bath. Hal wondered what on earth the master bedroom looked like if this was a guest room.

"We're in the nursery," Butch complained, making a distasteful face. "I guess its o.k., just a little babyish and girly."

"Well, I like it," his sister protested. "It's got lots of flowers."

"Nice tux, Dad," Hal said. "Are you going to wear it to the wedding?"

"I don't think so."

"Aren't you going to give Nanny away?" Butch asked.

"That's for her daddy to do," Prudence corrected him. "Am I right, Daddy?"

Hal swallowed hard. He'd almost forgotten he had agreed to give Phoebe away at her wedding to Cholmondeley last fall. That seemed so very far away now. How had he ever thought he could manage that? How did he think he could manage tonight? Or ever get through her wedding?

"Daddy?" His daughter was waiting for an answer.

"Yes Darling, that's for her daddy to do. Now you kids get back up to the nursery and don't give Nanny Belle any trouble."

Prudence kissed him goodnight and the kids trooped out obediently. He finished with his cuff links and finally managed to tie his tie correctly. Glancing at himself once more in the mirror, he thought back to the last time he had worn a tuxedo and the way Phoebe had looked at him that night. If he had known what was coming, he would have run away with her on New Year's Eve and found the nearest preacher.

He headed down the long staircase and saw the wide foyer full of guests. Live music was playing, and men and women in evening dress were milling about greeting one another. The last party he had attended was the Christmas Eve party he had hosted for the mathematics department faculty. That party had been trying, although Phoebe had made it perfect. However, that party was a fraction of the size and a fraction of the difficulty this party threatened to be for him. He steeled himself, and taking a deep breath made it the rest of the way down the stairs.

Cecily met him at the bottom of the staircase, and took his arm. That was fortunate because the next thing he saw nearly made him sway on his feet. Phoebe and Cholmondeley were standing in the foyer meeting guests as they arrived. Seeing them together in formal wear, the sudden impact of the purpose of this party hit Hal with force. This was a party to announce their wedding, a wedding that would take place in three days. A wedding that would take place on the day that he had chosen to be the day of his wedding to Phoebe. And there she was, looking beautiful and calm next to the man who would be her husband, while Hal stood just staring at her. He felt like an outsider, as far away from her as if he had never met her. Not the man who had held her in his arms and loved her, not the man who had lived with her and had been engaged to marry her for the most wonderful day of his life. This was a woman he didn't know, and a woman who belonged here, in this home, with another man.

Then Phoebe looked up and saw him. Her gaze sparked silver for a second and her pink lips parted. He knew the sweetness of those lips, knew her eager kiss and her spellbinding arms. She looked stunning tonight in her azure silk, but he knew her beauty in a pink and white dressing robe, or in an everyday blouse and skirt. He loved her and wanted her, and her eyes told him she loved him forever. Her gaze held the same desire for him as when she first saw him in a tuxedo or when she had looked at him in the firelight.

"Hal?" Cecily pulled at his arm. "Let's greet Mother and Father and go into dinner. We can meet Phoebe and Cholmondeley later."

He allowed himself to be led away by the gentle Cecily. Glancing down at her face, he saw the same look of pain and longing he knew was etched in his own features.

XXXXXXXXX

If it was possible for a seven course gourmet meal to taste like sawdust, it was possible tonight. Hal sipped at his wine glass, his water glass, and eventually his champagne glass, but still his throat remained dry. The tie he had such problems with earlier threatened to strangle him now. He wanted to leave, needed to go, and how and to where he escaped seemed unimportant. As he looked around at the charming and fashionable company, he wanted to shout at all of them. What was happening here was a fraud; they needed to reject the archaic agreement their ancestors had cursed them with, and they needed to fight the terrible menace to their community. Forcing an arranged marriage on two people who didn't love each other and keeping apart two people who did love each other was as medieval a torture as the iron maiden. And the torment of being part of this charade was almost too much to bear for the honest and pragmatic man he was.

"I have another toast," Anthony Figalilly was saying. Standing, he held his hand out to Phoebe. She stood to join her father at the head of the table.

"When my darling Phoebe was born, she was betrothed in marriage to our dear Cholmondeley. There was a party on that day, quite similar to this one actually, except with even more drinking." He paused as the gathered group laughed, but his bright blue eyes were on his daughter. "And on that day I bought something for my firstborn, something to give to her on the day of her wedding announcement for her wedding day."

He picked up a small box and handed it to Phoebe. She opened it and her breath caught. Her father removed a lovely ring, and slipped it onto the ring finger of her right hand.

"This sapphire is the exact color of my Darling's blue eyes. The diamonds are for her sparkle. I knew on her wedding day she would need to wear something blue, and that is this ring." Anthony picked up Phoebe's hand and kissed it. "Be happy, Darling."

With tears in her eyes and a tremor in her voice, she embraced him tightly and said, "Thank you, Daddy."

"And now," he continued, "Let's all enjoy some dancing. This is a party after all!"

People gathered in a large room off the dining area that could only be called a ballroom. The music was inviting and couples paired off and began to dance. Hal escorted Cecily onto the floor, and she silently agreed to a dance. Scanning the room, he could see that Mr. and Mrs. Figalilly were dancing; while Phoebe seemed to be deep in conversation with a woman he didn't know. As he glided Cecily around the floor, he didn't take his eyes off of Phoebe.

"That's our Aunt Paulette," Cecily told him. "She's usually on a cruise somewhere, so it's actually quite nice she could make it for the wedding."

"Hmmm," Hal acknowledged.

After a moment, Cecily said, "You're staring."

"What?" He looked down at her.

"You're staring at Phoebe."

"Oh." Continuing to watch Phoebe, he deftly maneuvered Cecily around the floor.

"I know," she said. When he didn't reply, she clarified, "I know about you and Phoebe."

"I assumed you did."

"You did?" Cecily seemed surprised.

"Yes." Not looking at her he said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, "Well, isn't it nearly impossible to keep anything from anyone in your family? I've given up."

"Cholmondeley knows."

"He's said as much." Hal was now looking as Cholmondeley returned to Phoebe's side. "But it doesn't seem to bother him."

"Oh, but it does," she said. "He is going through with the wedding because it is for the good of the village. But he isn't happy with a marriage in name only."

Hal stopped dancing and looked at Cecily. "Who told you that?"

"Phoebe did. Didn't you know?"

"No, I…I never asked her to do that. I couldn't…as much as I might…"

"She doesn't love him," Cecily said.

"I have to talk to her." He glanced around the ballroom for Phoebe, but she seemed to have disappeared. Then he saw her dancing with Cholmondeley and felt a tight pain in his chest. As much as he couldn't tolerate the thought of them together, he couldn't see her condemned to a loveless marriage and a life without children. He headed towards her.

Before reaching them, he saw Cholmondeley stop dancing. As the band began playing Cole Porter's, "In the Still of the Night", he released Phoebe then turned and placed her hand in Hal's. Giving him a subdued smile, Cholmondeley said, gently, "Your dance?"

After a slight hesitation, Hal pulled Phoebe into his arms, and for long moments merely enjoyed the warm fit of her body next to his once more. The sudden spark of electricity and welcome frisson still managed to surprise them with the power to make them both breathless. Gazing down into her eyes, he was certain no sapphire could ever match their deep, rich color.

**Do you love me as I love you  
Are you my life to be  
My dream come true  
Or will this dream of mine  
fade out of sight  
While the Moon's growing dim  
on the rim of the hill  
in the chill still of the night**

The combination of the bittersweet lyrics and being this close to her again, Hal found he could barely speak. Finally, he managed to tell her, "You look very beautiful tonight."

Phoebe gave him a small smile and flushed. "And I still admire your tuxedo wearing skills."

"I think we have to talk."

"Do we have anything left to say?" She moved gently in his arms, and he knew their old practice of allowing their bodies to communicate what they couldn't speak wouldn't work now.

"I have a lifetime of things to say to you that I won't be able to say." Hal said, not releasing her gaze, "But right now I have to talk to you…about what Cecily told me."

He felt her tense in his arms and her eyes flared. "She wasn't supposed to say anything to you."

"You can't…"

"That's not your decision."

Hal held her closer and whispered, "I want you to be happy…if you can be happy."

"I can't be happy in this situation. You know that." Tears formed in her eyes and abruptly, Phoebe broke away from him.

He wanted to run after her, but couldn't make a scene at such an elegant party when he knew that would embarrass her family. The ballroom was crowded, and the sound of laughter and the smell of cigarette smoke seemed to be closing in on him. He could see Cecily dancing with Cholmondeley a few feet away, but didn't see Phoebe anywhere. Making his way off the floor, he wondered if he could leave the gathering without being noticed. He needed to think, and didn't want to be cornered into any party small talk right now.

Heading towards the grand staircase Hal thought he saw a flash of blue silk vanish through a door leading to the balcony. He smiled wryly to himself. An exotic genie once tried to escape him by leaving a party to the chill of an empty garden. If he wouldn't let her go then, he certainly wouldn't let her go now.

XXXXXXXXX

The terrace was cold and full of fragrant greenery. Mrs. Figalilly loved to garden, and even with her spacious grounds she still had potted plants everywhere. An early spring breeze rustled leaves, and Hal could hear the splashing of the fountain from the courtyard below. In the darkness, he couldn't see Phoebe at first, but just as he had found the genie behind a hedge all of those months ago, he saw her when he stepped around the shadows of a tall potted tree.

"There you are," he said quietly. "Please don't run away from me."

Like the genie, she silently shook her head.

"You won't speak? How can I understand you if you won't talk to me? I can't honestly say I truly understand you when you do." Hal teasingly smiled at her and moved closer. She took a step away from him.

Her gesture pierced his heart. He had thought they had come a long way from that moonless garden on Halloween eve, yet here she was, once again silent and once again avoiding him as if afraid.

"I won't hurt you," he told her, "it's you who have wounded me. I know you didn't make this decision lightly, but it is you who are leaving me."

Phoebe shook her head and he stepped in front of her. Her posture stiffened and for a moment he thought she would run. Instead, she raised her face to him and he could see tears still standing in her eyes.

"No," he whispered, "don't cry." Reaching for her, she came into his arms. Crying and shivering, she clung to him and pressed her desperate mouth to his. Her sweet, dark, exotic taste was so familiar and oh, so missed.

_I love you. _Hal heard her voice in his mind and unafraid, he answered her. He didn't know if she could hear him, and maybe it didn't matter, but she deepened their kiss and clutched his shoulders as if she understood.

Stroking the skin of her back, he felt gooseflesh along her bare shoulders. Pulling away, he met her shadowed eyes and her tears flashed silver in the moonlight. Bending his neck, he kissed along her soft shoulders.

"Did you wear this strapless dress for me?" Hal murmured. "Did you wear this delicate silk and show off these white shoulders just to torment me?" He grazed his teeth on her flesh and gently suckled her neck. Her gasp and her sigh were enough to keep his mouth sealed to her.

"I love you," Phoebe said breathlessly. She was trembling violently in his embrace. "Don't ever think I could love another."

"I know. Neither could I." Kissing her jaw he brushed hair from her shoulder. Her gentle feminine fragrance pulled at him until he was lightheaded with need. In spite of the cool breeze, he suddenly felt waves of rising heat and released her shivering form.

Hal removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Giving her a shaky smile he said, "There. I hope you appreciate my sacrifice in covering your provocative shoulders."

She smiled and stepped back into his arms. "I did wear this dress for you. And I risked the cold to do so."

Holding her tightly, he whispered against her brow. "For that I am very grateful."

"And I very much appreciate being surrounded by you," Phoebe rubbed her cheek against his shirtfront and inhaled deeply. "I've missed being in your arms, I've missed your scent, your warmth – I've missed you. This last month…"

"Has been torture, I know." Hal kissed her again and the hunger, the urgent desire, the longing he had felt all of those endless weeks came flooding through him. He was desperate to keep her, desperate to love her. He would do anything…

"Just love me," she moaned with her lips on his throat. "I can endure anything if I know you love me."

Pain rose inside of him again and he didn't now where he got the strength to speak. Hands around her waist he held her back a step. "Yes, I love you, but if you are going through with this it can't be just half a marriage for you. Phoebe, you are a warm, loving and passionate woman, you can't cut that out of your life for the rest of your life."

"I can." Her eyes were determined and he knew she would keep this commitment no matter how difficult. "Can you?" she asked.

Hal closed his eyes against her intense gaze. He knew he'd never love another woman. She had brought him back from a loveless place, but he knew there would be no return now after having such a wonderful and magical woman in his life.

"Yes," he replied, meeting her eyes again. "I can live without another marriage. Two loves were more than I could ask for in a lifetime. And nothing could ever replace what you and I had together. But I have children in my life. I can't imagine you living a life without your own children."

"I have your children."

With a sad smile he said, "You won't be living with them. You won't see them grow up."

"I don't want any children but yours," Phoebe clung to him again and said in a voice full of tears, "I only want the children you give me."

"I want that more than I can say." He stroked her soft hair for a long moment. Then taking her face in his hands he gave her another gentle smile. "When you told me my palm said I would father more children, I imagined ours."

"So did I." Shining tears were on her cheeks now.

"You would be a perfect mother, a beautiful mother." He kissed her tears.

"And maybe I will be…someday." Phoebe met his lips and her mouth was welcoming and warm. This was coming home. Not this manor, not the house in California, she was his home. And the home they had made together, the home they could make together, their children…was it all just an elusive fantasy? Was she? He tried to push the thoughts away of what would never be. He tried to be happy for her. She was starting a new life, living in this wonderful place where she belonged with her loving family and Cholmondeley…

"I can't," Hal gasped as he broke from their impassioned kiss. "I can't stay here and watch you be married. I love you and want what's best for you – I understand why you are staying and know you have a family that loves you but – I can't help but believe that I am what's best for you. Our life together is what is meant to be and I can't watch this happen. The…the children can stay, but I can't be here. Please understand."

Phoebe met his eyes with a silent, intent plea of her own. She seemed to consider his words, then spoke in the low, smoky voice that never failed to harness all of his attention.

"I know you. I know how difficult this is for you, but you must stay. That is why you had to come here, you have to understand…"

"I do understand! I know the circumstances for these people…I have empathy and sympathy and know you are bound to them and this community. What more can I give?"

"No." She shook her head. "You know who I am, Hal. You know me. Whether or not you have ever believed in what I can do or how I can do it – you have believed in me. And you must believe me now: I don't know what it is or why, but you must stay here. Something here is your destiny – and what is best for all of us."

Hal didn't understand what she was asking of him, but he also knew he was so often defenseless against her resolve. "I do believe in you. I accept you for who and what you are – I even accept your eccentric family and this entire crazy situation. But don't ask me to be part of this any longer. I can't pretend that I don't want to change everything – that I don't want you and need you in my life always."

She touched his cheek and he felt himself falling more deeply under her spell. The moonlight lit her face in just that moment and he saw that silver spark in her eyes he was never sure was real or in his imagination. She made him believe in the impossible…

"Just have faith in the rightness of things. I can't explain, but you must remain here with me now." Phoebe raised her lips to his once more and her powerful kiss broke through the last of his protests. Unable to gather his arguments, he gave in to her and allowed himself to be swept up in his feelings. Even faced with the inevitable tangle of their situation, he couldn't resist one more kiss, one more caress, or just one more moment in her arms. If it didn't last a lifetime, every second was something that would last…

_Always. _

XXXXXXXXX

Hal had missed breakfast in the main dining room, but was much happier eating alone in a small room off of the kitchen. The day was sunny and clear, but the butler who served him breakfast cautioned that there would certainly be thunderstorms later that day. He learned that his kids had left for the village with Nanny Belle for a St. Patrick's Day concert and play at the local school, and weren't expected back until lunchtime. Phoebe was with her mother reviewing last minute wedding plans, and he thought the further away he was from hearing about those arrangements the better for his disposition. Still not sure staying was in the best interest of everyone, he had allowed Phoebe to talk him into remaining the rest of the week. He wasn't sure how much talking had to do with swaying his decision, but he had given her his word.

After perusing the local paper, he walked around the first floor of the house, looking at old paintings and artifacts. The house almost had the feel of a museum, and he wondered if summer tourists paid a few shillings to take a tour of the grand manor. Still, the living areas had wonderful homey touches like plenty of well read books and half finished knitting projects. The staff kept the place spotless, but it was nice to see that his modest home wasn't the only one subject to the wear and tear on a carpet only dogs could provide.

Just off the sitting room there was a heavy door ajar and high shelves of books beckoned beyond. Never one to pass up a look through a library, Hal pushed the door opened further. In the center of the room was a long, gleaming wooden table with several unlit lamps sporting green glass shades. Cecily sat at the far end of the table surrounded by thick opened books. She was writing furiously on a lined legal pad and her silver rimmed glasses had slid to the end of her short nose. Upon Hal's entrance, she glanced up with a distracted look in her eyes.

"Oh, hello," Cecily removed her glasses and gave him a smile that was reminiscent of her sister's. "We all wondered where you were."

"Slept late. Guess the jetlag finally got to me." Hal gestured at the books on the table. "Catching up on your light reading?" he teased.

"Well, I…" She seemed uncomfortable. "I'm the family historian of sorts. I was reviewing the old covenants and trying to find…"

"Some sort of loophole?" Looking over the book titles he read, "A History of Devon", "The Dumnonii", ancient text translations, linguistics, cryptanalysis, philology…" He raised an eyebrow at Cecily.

"That's the study of…" she began.

"The study of language as it pertains to literature and culture, and of written texts, usually ancient ones." Hal supplied. "I know what it is but I've never met a philologist face-to-face. I thought they were usually dusty, ancient men."

"Yes, usually," Cecily flushed. "I mean, I only had one professor at Exeter who was a philologist and he was a dusty, little, old man. Most people think we are linguists, but linguists usually work with spoken data and most philologists work with little understood languages that are no longer spoken. Generally we work with textual records that may be all that is known of the language."

"The historical development of a language: language roots, syntax, semantics, grammar…" He picked up one of the volumes to scan a page.

"How do you know so much about it?" She asked. "Most people have never heard of what we do. Are you interested in languages?"

"Well, I'm very interested in artificial languages. I consulted with a cognitive philologist in Germany to discuss how human mental processes might be mimicked to produce artificial intelligence production and programming." Hal put the book down and picked up another.

"Language and mathematics are much more similar brain functioning systems than most people believe. For instance, translation and code breaking often use simple mathematical processes or algorithms…" Cecily began.

"Particularly useful when the language is a planned or artificial one." He peered over Cecily's shoulder at the papers in front of her. "That's it, huh? The ancient covenant of your people that has bound your family and Cholmondeley's in a "business in blood" contract with the entire community. The centuries old betrothal bonds that must be honored or the village is destroyed."

Cecily didn't miss the bitterness in Hal's voice. She looked at him with empathy and nodded. "I'm afraid it's a very precise document. Our ancestors were very far-sighted when it came to making lasting provisions for the security of this society."

Reading from the book in his hands, he said: "The name "Devon" derives from the kingdom of Dumnonia which was home to the tribe of Celtic people who inhabited the area of the southwestern peninsula of Britain at the time of the Roman invasion in AD 43. The name Dumnonii possibly means 'Deep Valley Dwellers' or 'Worshippers of the god Dumnonos or "World Spirit".

Cecily nodded. "Our people are very connected spiritually. And we are very committed to the land. Our ancient farming processes are very friendly to the Earth. We have tremendous product yield. Phoebe believes that someday our methods will be practiced all over the world."

"I don't doubt she's right," Hal was pensive as he scanned the document on the table. There was a familiarity to the structure that was pulling at his memory. The words weren't recognizable to him, but the text seemed more balanced and rigid than the languages he was familiar with like Italian or German. "Cecily, are you the only person who can read this?"

"Yes," she said slowly. "I had reviewed it years ago with the professor I mentioned, as our language is no longer spoken. He agreed with the accepted meaning of the translated

text that has been passed on from generation to generation."

"How did you learn the language?"

"From my grandfather. Why?"

"Did he speak this language?" Hal's eyes hadn't left the page and his quick mind was racing.

"Yes, a few words. We all speak only a few words." Cecily shrugged.

He wanted to hear the rhythm of the words. "Will you read some of this for me, please?"

Putting her glasses back on, she began to read slowly. The language didn't sound as lyrical as Irish, Welsh or Scottish; it's formal and unnatural intonation not due entirely to Cecily's halting speech.

Interrupting her, Hal asked, "Why is this not spoken any longer?"

"I suppose because it is so difficult to learn. The origin is believed to be Italic – a precursor to Latin. I'm afraid when spoken it's not as pretty as other Celtic or Romance languages."

"Too many rules?" Hal guessed. "No dialects?"

"That's right." Cecily's blue eyes were wide, and for some reason her pulse had quickened. "Why, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking it's time we dusted off that old professor of yours."


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: St. Patrick's Day Eve Chapter II**

**Author: Forever Fan**

**Rating: T**

**Spoilers: none **

**Category: Romance/Supernatural**

**Disclaimer: This property belongs to David Gerber Productions and FOX Television. Lyrics of Cole Porter used with deep respect but without permission. I make no profit and intend no infringement. **

**Summary: A trip to England for a wedding. But who's getting married? **

**Last of a holiday series of stories. It may help to read the stories in order. **

**Feedback: Yes, please**

The drive to Exeter was less than fifty miles, but it seemed much longer to both Cecily and Hal. The trip through the county side was lovely, but Hal would much rather be sitting in a musty university office finding answers to the puzzling document. If his suspicions were correct, the entire community might be acting under a false premise. He didn't know much about languages, per se, but he did know mathematics, and something about the structure of the syntax seemed more like a planned or artificial language to his eye than the form of a natural spoken language; and that fact might affect how the document was translated. Continuing to view the pages of the contract, he needed to know he wasn't operating under his own wishful thinking. The wedding was only two days away, and there wasn't any time to waste. Knowing it was a useless gesture, he mentally urged the car faster.

Cecily was driving, and as predicted a steady rainfall began to spatter the windshield. She had contacted Professor Breskin and he could make time for them today. Semi-retired, it was a great stroke of luck they had found the philologist present at the university.

To distract herself, Cecily talked about the family. She told Hal although Phoebe had gone to Oxford; she had chosen to stay closer to home and attend the University of Exeter where she could come home on weekends. And as Phoebe had traveled all over the world, first with family, then alone, then wherever her chosen work would take her; she preferred to return to the family home after university to help run the family business as well as pursue her academic studies in philology. Cecily maintained the status of visiting professor at Exeter, completing translations and writing papers, but she rarely taught. She seemed to prefer a quiet home life, and never ventured far from Devon.

"Most of the Figalilly's love to travel, but I always tell everyone that Phoebe received all of the wanderlust in our family. Mother and father used to travel, but they love the farm and the village and leave the rogue adventures to their brothers and sisters. I know you have met some of them." Cecily turned her attention away from the road to smile at him.

"Yes," Hal grinned. "I have to admit I have enjoyed meeting everyone. Your Aunts Justine and Agatha landed in a balloon in my backyard, Uncle Alfred saved a university fundraiser and Uncle Horace helped to end a drought." He shook his head. "And your Aunt Henrietta seems to have settled in California, although I'm wondering if she'll move on now. As for the family I've just met, I'm having trouble keeping Aunt Philomena apart from Aunt Anne, and I mix up Uncle Joseph's military history from Uncle August'."

"Oh, all of that will become clear with time," Cecily laughed, then sobered remembering the circumstances. "I'm sorry."

"So am I." He was quiet a long moment. "I know Cholmondeley has traveled "here and there" for years, but I get the feeling he's been "here" most recently. And I also have the feeling that has been quite all right with you."

"Both he and Phoebe have been…settling down…the past few years. Her in California with you, and he here with…" She broke off, "Oh, here we are."

She drove through the beautiful city pointing out historical places of interest to Hal. Exeter appeared to have its own St. Patrick's Day weeklong celebrations, and the decorations made the already lovely city even more charming. Hal found Cecily's descriptions of local lore as colorful and informative as any tour guide, but the crowded city traffic was beginning to wear on his patience and he had difficulty paying attention to Cecily. Glancing at his watch for the third time in five minutes, he was grateful when she finally pulled into a parking space adjacent to a two story building.

They made their way to Professor Robert Breskin's cramped office on the second floor. After accepting his secretary's offer of hot tea, Hal reviewed several of the books littering the Professor's desk.

"Some of these are the same ones you were using this morning," he told Cecily. "Do you think that he...?"

"Cecily!" A stooped, elderly gentleman entered the room and took the young woman by the hand. "Always a pleasure to see you here, my dear. I keep hoping you will join us full-time so I can see more of you."

"Thank you, Professor Breskin. I am very grateful you could see us on such short notice." She indicated Hal, "Professor Breskin, I would like you to meet Professor Harold Everett."

"Professor?" The older man shook Hal's hand, but his watery hazel eyes were confused. "Cecily, I thought you told me this young man was interested in your family's historical documents. I didn't know he was a fellow scholar."

"No, he isn't, Professor Breskin. I mean, he isn't a fellow philologist. Professor Everett is a mathematician."

"Interested in the applications of mathematics to language, are you son?" Professor Breskin indicated two chairs for his visitors then sat at his desk. "I myself am very interested in applying the principles of linguistics to artificial languages. I was just reading a fascinating article by a cognitive philologist, but I'm afraid my German isn't very good."

"Dr. Wagner? Yes, I have consulted him. Very innovative research," Hal said, sitting next to Cecily and across the desk from the Professor.

"Yes and I…" Robert Breskin seemed to be searching his desk for the article but his attention became sidetracked. "Where on earth is that woman with our tea? Ursula!"

"Just here, Dr. Breskin," a middle-aged woman in a print dress entered carrying a tray. "I thought you might like a few biscuits to share with your guests."

"Yes, yes, thank you, Ursula." He busied himself with the tea then said, "Where was I?"

"Professor Breskin," Cecily confided as the secretary left the room. "I'm afraid our time is rather limited. I wanted to consult you on the family document we had translated when I was a student here. You remember it had been translated centuries ago into Old English, but I had brought the original documents for a more precise translation."

"Oh yes," the old gentleman gazed at the ceiling in thought. "The people of Dumnonia most probably spoke a Southwestern Brythonic dialect similar to the forerunner of more recent Cornish. But the language on the document of your people was unlike that. I seem to remember you were particularly interested in the betrothal and marriage contract and the bloodlines as you were very concerned about a young man betrothed to your sister."

Cecily flushed. "Yes, Professor, that was the document."

"And that is the part of the contract I have a particular interest in as well, Professor Breskin." Hal told him.

"You do? Well, I can assure you we were very thorough… Do you have the covenant with you now, Cecily?"

She handed him the papers. "These are copies. The originals are in the family safe."

"And they are exact copies?"

"Yes, of course." Cecily watched closely as the elderly man placed his glasses on his nose and read the document over carefully.

Hal began, "Professor Breskin, I believe this language was not a natural language derived from spoken words as originally thought. I think it is an artificial language, taken from the language of the Dumnonii, but its planned usage was consciously devised or modified by an individual or a group of individuals, instead of having evolved naturally."

"Hmmm, a "planned language", the philologist was reviewing the text. "They are sometimes auxiliary languages designed for actual use in human communication or prescriptions given to a natural language to standardize it…some international languages, like Esperanto, are "planned languages".

"Yes," Hal said, excitedly, "as well as artificial computer languages."

"But my boy," Robert Breskin peered over his reading glasses at Hal, "this was the text of a spoken, natural language when it was translated into Old English."

The younger man shook his head. "The original document that was translated into Old English was possibly incorrect because it was thought to be the spoken language of the Dumnonii. That was the language used to interpret the contract's meaning. The Dumnonii were an ancient culture largely untouched by the Roman invasion. As one of your books here describes," he waved a hand at the volumes on the doctor's desk, "they were "deep valley dwellers", "people of the land", "people of the cave". These people were farmers and miners, connected to the spirit of the earth, and the god they worshipped, Dumnonos, was defined as a "World Spirit".

"Yes," Breskin looked thoughtful, "but this language was spoken. The determination was it originated in the British Isles, one of the Insular Celtic sublanguages and not derived with any continental language roots. And Cecily's ancestors' spiritual practices, from what she and this document describe, are very similar to the Druids."

"However, I surmised that this small subgroup of people from the Dumnonii created their own society – the group that founded that village. Wouldn't it make sense that those people would develop a completely separate language? And wouldn't that language be a universal one that could be spoken by everyone in an effort to unite the world and reflect their cultural and religious beliefs? And wouldn't they base that language on the universal language of mathematics?"

"Then it would have to be translated as an artificial language, using the principles of mathematics." Professor Breskin frowned and looked at Cecily. "That would mean our translation would need to be reviewed and revised, as well as the covenant's original translation into Old English. That would also require a consultation with an expert on ancient cultures familiar with this region."

"I've already consulted one," Hal said. "Professor Brand at Clinton University in California explained the Dumnonii culture to me, which was why when I saw and heard the original text and what Cecily was working on…I put two and two together."

"Possibly," the senior theologist turned to the young woman. "Cecily, you remember Dr. Tressler? The anthropologist who was so interested in Druid society that we consulted years ago? He was very interested in your village, if I remember."

"Yes," Cecily nodded and looked from one man to the other, "I know Miller very well and I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping us."

"If you know a good theologist that might help shed some light on the ancient religious rites of betrothals as well as comparisons with other earth religions that might help us as well" Hal suggested. "I have an associate in the states who might know someone, but it would take time…"

"Could be, we can round someone up," the elderly Professor mused. Then he studied Hal, "Young man, you must have quite a lot at stake to be able to make all of these leaps and connections so quickly. Sounds like this could be a turning point in your career."

Hal smiled at Robert Breskin and then at Cecily. "There's a lot more at stake than my career, Professor Breskin."

XXXXXXXXX

While waiting for their anthropologist colleague, Cecily and Robert Breskin pored over the documents. They were now concerned much of the original translation may be incorrect. At the time of their previous work, they had assumed the lack of nuances or inconsistencies in the language of the text were due to the formality of the document, and not to the fact the language may not have evolved naturally from the spoken word. They were comparing the original text to the Old English translation, and were narrowing it down to possible errors involving specific vocabulary. If they could prove the first translation of the document had been wrong; it would throw the entire meaning of the covenant and the "business in blood" clauses into question.

Hal continued to review the documents as well, attempting to prove mathematically that the original language was not Dumnonii but a derivative based on a numerical system. He continued to try to prove the language was artificial or "planned" and that he could assist them in translating the documents utilizing code breaking or cryptanalysis techniques that didn't work well on natural languages. Wishing he had use of his university's computer for just a few hours, he worked out his formulas feverishly. What was astonishing to him was that while working on the translation of this ancient planned language, he continued having flashes of insight on the development of the artificial computer languages he had been researching over the past few months. As experienced as he was at doing research and making careful and correct intellectual connections, he had never before experienced this type of inspiration in his work. He could see things so clearly in his mind now it was almost like being carried along by forces he couldn't control.

When Dr. Miller Tressler joined them, Hal was surprised to find the man looked like a hippie. He had long, fading red hair held back with a bandana and strings of wooden beads around his neck. His appearance was more like a UCLA student protester than a professor, but he was indeed a well-respected University of Exeter anthropologist. Miller had become enamored of the recent resurgence of interest in pagan and neo-pagan cultures and rituals and had written a book on Druid culture. He came to Dr. Breskin's office on his day off as a favor to Cecily, bringing enough sunflower seeds and organic fruit for everyone.

"I always told Cecily she was a pagan at heart," Tressler said with a nod to the woman. "That village she comes from is ground zero for an almost untouched view into the past. Her people may appear as modernized as any contemporary rural village, but the roots of their culture go deep into their bloodline."

"But the village developed differently from other ancient cultures. Isn't it true the Druids never had a written language?" Hal asked.

"Yes, as far as we know. And Cecily's ancestors may have once been Druids, friend," the anthropologist replied. "Actually they were probably a splinter group, and one that had maintained a much more pure society. I've always believed because of that, and all of their intermarrying, they had a higher degree of – well – mystical powers, more of a connection to nature – that sort of thing. They are certainly like Druids: nonhierarchical, no land ownership, balanced gender roles, a socialistic or even communistic system of governing. They live in harmony with the land, and everyone was seen as 'family'."

"So spoken language…" Hal persisted.

"Wouldn't have developed if my hunch is correct," Tressler leaned towards Cecily. "I know you've always denied it: but I know your people can read minds."

Cecily looked embarrassed. "Miller…" she began.

"I'm not accusing you all of being witches," he laughed, "just highly intuitive. And language development interferes with that sort of "power". Miller used the first two fingers of each hand to make quotation marks in the air around the word "power". "I'm just saying for a culture like that it might make sense for a written language to evolve before a spoken one."

"That's highly unusual, Miller," Professor Breskin told him.

"Unusual but not entirely unheard of," the younger professor leaned back in his chair and raised his legs to rest crossed ankles on the edge of Breskin's desk. "Many languages begin with symbolic hand gestures and markings long before speech."

"Why did they develop written language at all?" Hal asked.

"Because of the Roman invasion and the encroachment of other cultures," Tressler explained. "They had to learn to communicate with others outside of their community."

"And it probably happened to protect their society," Breskin added, "They may have even begun to put a hierarchy into place…"

"So our way of life would be preserved," Cecily said quietly. "There are old stories about "the others" and how they had to learn to speak to them…I always thought that meant to learn another's language, not to create a spoken language. And there are also stories about developing names…"

"Surnames," Tressler completed for her. "To protect the community they had to develop surnames so they could intermarry within the village and not cross the bloodlines too closely. There is no need for names in a society that doesn't speak."

Hal tried to put all of what he was hearing into context with all he knew and had observed about Phoebe and her family over the years. Suddenly he felt out of his depth again, and wished he were reading about this fascinating culture from the objective safety of his office a continent away. As it was he was feeling as if he were fighting for his future with the woman he loved.

"Do you think these facts can make a convincing argument against the validity of the "business in blood" contract, and more specifically against the betrothal agreement?" Hal asked impatiently.

"Well," Tressler sighed, "from what you have all told me, we don't have much time to make a complete academic analysis. However, if we can get the good reverend in the village to make a sound theological case for why these people created this ancient covenant and make the connection to their language development – we could come up with something to fight that company. Have you found flaws in the translation, Robert?"

"As much as I hate to admit it," Breskin scratched at his head, "there do seem to be errors. And we need to check the Old English translation as well."

Cecily frowned. "Even if we make a good argument our solicitors will have a fight on their hands to stop the wedding. The company challenging us seems determined to move very quickly and so we must act fast. There are rumors that villagers have already been approached about selling their properties and businesses or leaving Figalilly and Featherstonehaugh to take jobs with the new company before anything has been settled."

"Bloody fascists," Tressler muttered.

XXXXXXXXX

Hal and Cecily had stayed at Exeter until the late evening. Professor Breskin was so enthusiastic, he broke his rule about attending his every-other-Wednesday evening draughts game and even cancelled dinner with his wife. Like a true academic, he really didn't mind admitting to being wrong in his original work as long as he found out the right answers.

On the drive back, Cecily was quiet. She had expressed enthusiasm during the excitement of discovering errors in the original text, errors that might expose inconsistencies in the marriage covenant or even make it obsolete. However, Hal knew it was difficult and painstaking work, and even if they could amass enough evidence to make the "business in blood" contract invalid, what would that mean to the village? Would the Figalilly and Featherstonehaugh lawyers be able to convince the lawyers of a multinational company that the marriage between two particular individuals didn't have to occur to keep the landholdings and the contracts of hundreds valid? As fatigue took hold, he found those thoughts sobering.

"Perhaps if we have enough information to question the documents meaning, we can get a legal injunction to postpone the marriage?" Cecily's tone was hopeful.

"Postpone?" Despite his foray into the less than precise world of language interpretation and cultural analysis, Hal was by nature a pragmatic scientist. He wanted a black and white answer and didn't live easily in that gray uncertain space.

"I'm not any happier with that than you are," she told him as she switched on the windshield wipers to swipe at the light drizzle landing on the glass.

"You love him, don't you?" He didn't really need to hear the answer, it was clear enough.

"Since I was a little girl," Cecily said with a smile. "I know it sounds ridiculous. For as long as I can remember I knew Phoebe was betrothed to Cholmondeley, but that didn't stop me from loving him. And during the past few years, he had spent more and more time at home and we spent more and more time together. After awhile, I'd begun to forget he was going to marry my sister."

Hal sighed. "I understand. You can't plan who you are going to fall in love with, it's not as easy to figure out as a mathematical theorem or even an ancient dead language. I knew Phoebe was engaged, but it was something I chose not to think about. I loved her and that's all I knew."

Glancing at him, Cecily remarked. "You two are very different, you know."

He grinned and shook his head. "I've tried to puzzle out the logic of that then realized there was no complete explanation. And to try to figure out an answer was itself illogical. You should know that, Cecily. I've observed that you and Cholmondeley are very different, too."

"Yes." Now it was her turn to sigh. "Maybe that is the answer, Hal. Maybe they are our perfect opposites and that attraction, love, and need for the "other" can't be explained either."

Turning up the long road to the house, Hal mused if perhaps he hadn't fallen in love with the wrong Figalilly sister. Then as Cecily pulled the car up to the entrance, he saw Phoebe standing in the open doorway looking welcoming and lovely in a lavender lace dressing gown. Her brow was creased in concern and her expression was questioning as he met her on the wet stairs. Wordlessly he looked into her eyes and smiled. Not seeing her for twenty-four hours felt like a lifetime. How could he ever live without her? Resisting the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her, he allowed her to take his arm and lead him inside. No, he told himself, he had not fallen in love with the wrong sister.

XXXXXXXXX

Hal was beginning to regret that he and Cecily had decided not to share their findings with the rest of the family. The next morning, a large breakfast gathering included the presence of Cholmondeley and all of the talk was of the wedding. Evidently the entire village took part in the festivities, and everyone would be coming to the manor for the wedding feast. Since before dawn trucks full of food and flowers had been arriving, and extra hired staff was set to work polishing and decorating the receiving hall. Anthony Figalilly seemed very happy and relaxed, and his wife appeared animated and excited, although Hal did see her send a worried glance or two at Phoebe. The woman who was to have been his "blushing bride" seemed terribly pale and wan, not speaking unless strictly necessary and her quick smile seemed to have vanished.

The Everett children were all well behaved but unnaturally subdued. Not even the discussion of their involvement in the ceremony seemed to interest them. Rose Figalilly fawned over Prudence, reminding her of the new lovely white dress and green hair ribbons she would wear as Phoebe's flower girl. The child looked at her former nanny with a trembling chin and asked to be excused. Cecily left the table to rush after the girl, while Phoebe stared after them with an anguished expression.

"Just the excitement, my dear," Cholmondeley said. He tried to smile at her, but wasn't able to achieve the cheerful affect. Phoebe seemed unable to meet her fiancé's eyes and didn't reply. For a fleeting moment Hal almost felt sorry for him.

"May we be excused too, Dad?" Hal asked his father. He and Butch had already stood up. "We're going horse back riding with Mr. Feathers and Prudence is staying here with Nanny Belle."

At his nod, Cholmondeley informed him, "They will be in very good hands, Professor. They may even participate in some of the farm chores." He stood and including everyone in his goodbye, said to Phoebe, "I shall see you tomorrow, Dearest."

She acknowledged him but avoided his kiss as he leaned towards her cheek. After he and the boys had departed, she told her parents, "Mother, Father, I have some things to attend to and will be in my room."

"But Phoebe, dear…" her mother began.

"Whatever it is, Mother, we can see to it later," she said quietly and left the room.

"Excuse me, please," Hal saw the frown Rose gave him, but it didn't deter him from following Phoebe into the foyer. He caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Can I talk to you?" He asked her in a low voice.

She looked around them nervously. The bustle in the house made it difficult to find a place to have a quiet word alone. She bit her lip in an anxious gesture then led him to the unoccupied day room. There was a fire lit in a small fireplace, but that wasn't enough to dispel the chill or to create cheer.

Hal hesitated for a moment then produced a small box from his jacket pocket. Phoebe looked at it but made no move to take it.

"Please," he said, "this is your wedding present. I don't know if we'll have another chance to speak alone, and I didn't want to give it to you in front of anyone. I've had it for weeks, since before…before you agreed to marry me. Please, take it."

Slowly she shook her head and the listless gesture tore at him. Then raising her eyes to his something she saw there made her reach for his gift. Opening the box she saw an emerald pendant nestled in white velvet. The intricate antique platinum setting matched his great-great grandmother's diamond ring.

"I bought it when I thought St. Patrick's Day would be a wonderful day for our wedding. I was told the emerald is the stone of harmony, healing, wisdom and love. That giving your – your lover an emerald will bring you closer if the giver's motive is pure love.

This emerald can be a bridge between us, the stone is said to hold the vibration of love."

"An emerald also ensures security and faithfulness in love," Phoebe replied softly. Looking at the stone, she touched it gently. "And green is symbolic of nature, growth, fertility and is also the color of the heart chakra. This is a perfect wedding gift."

"I want you to wear it tomorrow," Hal said.

"I can't," she gazed up at him with tears in her eyes. "This was for our wedding."

"No," he told her, "this is for your wedding. The emerald is for you, it may be the last thing I give to you in love. Please, Phoebe you must accept it."

She took the pendant from its nest and handed it to him. Opening the clasp, he secured it around her neck. Then he lifted the emerald and kissed it, replacing it to rest against her collarbone.

Their gaze held a long moment before she finally turned and rushed from the room.

XXXXXXXXX

Taking advantage of the chaos going on in the household, Hal and Cecily gathered their academic team in the family library. Professors Breskin and Tressler arrived unnoticed by the busy family, and as their expert theologist was the local village pastor, when he came by it was under the pretext of reviewing wedding plans for the next day. The conversation between The Reverend Doctor Stanley Griffith and Rose Figalilly over the ceremony took all of ten minutes, and while showing himself out, he easily slipped into the library. Coming into the room the reverend found Cecily on the telephone having difficulty explaining everything to the family's solicitors.

"Yes," she was saying, "I understand, but if we can prove there are errors we need the families released completely from the betrothal contract… Yes. I'm sure we can get that for you and… Seven o'clock. They will. Thank you."

Four pairs of eyes were on her as Cecily dropped the telephone receiver loudly into its cradle. She explained what the solicitors had told her. "They will be here to meet with us at seven this evening and insist on reviewing all of the scholarship information. We will all need to supply signed statements. They will also contact the solicitors and the representatives of the company making the claim, and will schedule a meeting here with all of us at eight o'clock. I'll have to tell mother and father and Cholmondeley, of course."

Reverend Griffith was sympathetic, "My dear Cecily," he said, "try not to lose faith."

She smiled at him and touched his arm. "Thank you for coming and allowing yourself to be a part of this Reverend."

The man's soft smile was reflected in his kind, light blue eyes. "I have known this family all of my life. I have known you and Phoebe all of your lives. If there is anything I can do to contribute to your happiness, you know I will help all I can."

Cecily introduced the reverend to Hal and Dr. Breskin. As they all sat at the wide table, Hal turned to Dr. Griffith, "Reverend, the others were explaining to me that you are an expert on ancient earth religions and that Dr. Tressler interviewed you extensively for his book."

"Oh yes," the reverend smiled and nodded at Miller Tressler, "we had quite a few lively discussions about this village and our practices. Of course, there are very few traditions left from the old days, and we are all members of the Church of England now. However, the basis of our people's spiritual beliefs are most definitely pagan. A harmony with nature and the natural world, as well as "hidden" abilities that pointed to shamanism and divination was all part of whom we were and who we are."

Griffith addressed everyone at the table, "You see, I am certain this community was among the first to combine old earth religion, spiritualism and global monotheism. I believe we were a subgroup of Druids or Neo-Druids, and had practiced a form of religion that generally promotes harmony and worship of nature, respect for all beings, and honoring the natural, physical environment. We also believed in reincarnation and the interconnection between all souls. Druids, as Miller will tell you, were much respected in ancient societies as they were thought to have supernatural powers and able to perform acts of divination. Our subculture certainly shared that reputation, and there are indications in the covenant passages that we were more involved in those occult practices than the Druids, possibly because we were more insulated."

"And how does this pertain to language development?" Hal asked.

"Well, Druids were philosophers and theologians who left no written records. When our village society developed language, I believe it is more than likely that we were philosophically inclined and intellectually capable to create a uniting global planned language. A 'one world' belief system would create a 'one world' language. Originally, we didn't speak, my boy. Cecily knows the old stories as well as I do."

"But those are just stories, Reverend," Cecily said.

"Oral tradition is recognized as a legitimate scholarly source," Dr. Tressler reminded her.

"Those stories and the reverend's conjecture all point to written language development predating spoken language. That gives the foundation for the review of the text and the strong possibility of error."

"That and Hal's intuition," Cecily said, smiling at the American.

"Dr. Everett," the reverend asked him, "Are you a theologian or an anthropologist? Or do you work in the field of philology?"

"Me?" Hal smiled. "No, Reverend, I'm just a mathematician; an outsider."

Griffith was thoughtful. "No, something tells me you are very much involved here and very important to our little community. Our spiritual beliefs are inclusive of everyone, son. We don't only see fellow villagers as family, but include the entire world. You may represent the 'other' group, but there is no such person as 'an outsider'."

"Thank you, Reverend Griffith," Hal said to him, "now all we need is the proof of that statement. Proof that will satisfy a twentieth century multinational company."

XXXXXXXXX

As they all worked through the long morning and into the afternoon, Hal began to become anxious about discovery by the rest of the family. He and Cecily had agreed not to discuss any of this until they were more certain that the outcome would indeed affect the betrothal contract. There was no need to unsettle everyone when the situation was already so disconcerting. Grateful that Nanny Belle was keeping the children busy, he wondered if the rest of the Figalilly's were becoming suspicious about his and Cecily's whereabouts. Grimly he reminded himself that the wedding preparations were probably distracting everyone – even Phoebe. However, Cecily would have to speak with her parents and Cholmondeley soon so they would be present at the solicitor's meeting. Cecily had informed Hal that over the last few years Cholmondeley had acted as head of the company although his parents had made him the primary representative for the factories only after his uncle's death. She and Cholmondeley had worked closely producing contracts with all of their internal and external employees as well as overseeing the farm and the factory operations.

In spite of his exhilaration over all of his conjecture about this culture being correct, and although his own intellectual leaps seemed to be all but setting his brain synapses on fire, Hal kept thinking about Phoebe. He couldn't forget her face that morning, her quiet and restrained expression, her pallid complexion. Even wearing his emerald, she appeared so sad and colorless, he felt as if he had a glimpse into what her life would be like in the near future. And what his life would be like as well. The flush of intellectual excitement would be gone in a flash if what they were working on proved to be futile. If they couldn't prove the translation of the covenant was wrong, and if they couldn't prove the marriage didn't have to take place, none of this would have any meaning for him.

For one insane moment Hal almost wished he had never met Phoebe, had never disrupted her life and she had never entered his. If she didn't love him, she could have married Cholmondeley and been content, if not happy. And if he didn't love her, he would have been left with his memories of Mary, and married some good woman out of convenience and loneliness. He would never have known the rapturous joy of finding love again or loving such an unexpected and magical creature as Phoebe. And he would never have known he could make such a beautiful and free spirit happy. No. He knew wishing they had never met was showing a complete lack of reason and the thought had come to him out of his grief over losing her. She had changed his life and the life of his children in so many wonderful ways; he could never wish not to have had her in his life, even if it was for such a short time.

"Hal?" Cecily was calling to him. He roused himself and joined her and Professor Breskin at the head of the table.

"I think we have something here," she was saying. "There is a passage that states: "And in this covenant, blood of this family will join the blood of the other." In the Old English interpretation of the document this indicated the two families that were the leaders in the community: the Figalilly's and the Featherstonehaugh's. But in two separate places on the text, there is no mention of surnames. In fact, there is at least one other place in the second translation where the name is replaced with a word that means 'villager' or 'brethren'."

"Those nouns: family, kin, brethren were all descriptions of a function or role in society," Dr. Breskin supplied.

"Meant to be useful as a 'function' word – like in an artificial language," Hal mused.

"Yes, but your algorithm shows that some of these overused and basic words were interpreted – or rather misinterpreted – as surnames. And those names – particularly Figalilly and Featherstonehaugh – were then associated with only two families." Cecily told him. "And that was done when the original document was translated into Old English."

"Only two bloodlines to simplify leadership roles to the outsiders – as was the custom for the times," Miller Tressler said.

Cecily continued, "Those social function words, misinterpreted as names, stuck to only two families. Then it was practiced that only the marriage between those two families could honor any "business in blood" contract."

"However, that was never the original meaning." Robert Breskin interjected.

"No, no – not in our type of society," Reverend Griffith said shaking his head. "Something always seemed out of place as the Figalilly and Featherstonehaugh families were never comfortable with their leadership roles. Even today, all of the factory and farm holdings are jointly owned by everyone in the village. The only real obligation expected from the families was…"

"The marriage contract," Hal finished for him.

Now nodding the reverend said, "The only time the contract ever came into question is now. The old betrothals were never challenged. Of course, there were old stories…"

"Stories where true love came between the betrothed couple," Cecily smiled, remembering. "I can recall those romantic stories well. True love triumphed because a flaw had been discovered…" her voice faltered.

"In the contract!" Reverend Griffith slapped the table loudly. "I remember those stories too! There was always a misinterpretation of birth order, or a mistaken identity, or a sudden heroic death…"

Alarmed, the aging philologist said, "I hope it won't come to that."

"Perhaps those old stories were prophetic in some way," Cecily said in a soft voice. "Maybe this was the flaw waiting to be found."

"Oral tradition often holds more truths about a culture than anything written in official documents," Tressler stated.

"Then that would mean that any villager or person in the community could take the place of a Figalilly or a Featherstonehaugh." Hal said hopefully.

"Theoretically," Robert Breskin replied. "As long as the persons fulfilling the betrothal covenant adhere to the other bloodline requirements of the covenant. In fact 'the other' might not even refer to a 'villager' or 'brethren'. That is what makes the blasted thing so complicated! The detail put into this text is nearly as complicated as the bible. There are plenty of other surnames mentioned, but according to Cecily, many of them don't exist in the community any longer."

"Either that, or they have been changed beyond all recognition," Cecily clarified.

Breskin continued, "Using your new algorithm we've found that when the original document was translated into Old English there were errors because of the assumption the culture was feudal and titled and not the democratic society that it was. The errors are specific to other words meaning 'leaders' or 'lord' or 'landed'. These words had no meaning in the original text."

"That's because at the time of the translation into Old English there was a strong ruling class throughout England," Dr. Tressler interjected. "Perhaps the Figalilly and Featherstonehaugh families were seen as 'leaders' because they were the most efficient with their land or had the strongest occult abilities. And it's likely they wouldn't correct this error as it was a way to protect their community and their prosperity. That's what "business in blood" contracts were designed to do: maintain the loyalty, fidelity, honesty and prosperity of a community."

"Perhaps that was also a way to keep their spiritual connection to the land and to one another," Reverend Griffith supplied. "The type of 'world' spiritual beliefs as our people believed doesn't generally uphold blood ties and marriage contracts. Those are more often seen to protect leadership through bloodlines; our society would have no reason for such covenants."

"Then why was it accepted for so long?" Hal asked.

The reverend shrugged. "Possibly it continued as a defense against foreign invaders. Our society abhors any kind of violence."

"That would be my assumption," Tressler mused. "These people are psychically sensitive and were never part of a warrior culture. That's probably one reason why they splintered off from the Druids."

"And the second translation from Old English into Modern English carried on those errors for protection. That is probably why the marriage covenant continued for generations. And no one caught the mistakes until now, neither Dr. Breskin nor I." Cecily said sheepishly.

"We never thought the language was constructed without benefit of speech," Breskin said thoughtfully. "But it all makes sense now: the syntax and grammar structure…"

Hal broke in, "Will any of this satisfy the lawyers? More specifically, will any of this satisfy the other company's lawyers?"

"Well, to keep the solicitors happy, we might want to explain that at least one person named in the marriage contract be a village property and business holder – but that shouldn't be difficult to obtain." Reverend Griffith's soft blue were twinkling as he looked at Hal. "Will it son?"

"No," the mathematician answered with a broad smile, "I don't think that should be a problem at all."

"Well, it will have to satisfy that company since we all make a good argument." Breskin turned to him. "And Cecily's solicitors will most certainly see it's a matter of life or death."

"Life or death?" Hal asked with a wry grin.

"There is the death of a village, a culture and a whole way of existence that hangs in the balance." Then he nodded towards Cecily. "There is also the life of a lovely and bright philologist. I also think there is the matter of the life and happiness of a very intelligent and insightful mathematician."

XXXXXXXXX

At exactly six that evening Cecily opened the library door and led a rather startled Anthony and Rose Figalilly and a surprised Cholmondeley Featherstonehaugh to encounter an unlikely band of academicians. They listened to the very detailed explanation that the document that had served as a bible for their community had been misinterpreted for centuries. There was shock and disbelief, but also relief, to uncover facts that placed both the Figalilly and Featherstonehaugh families not at the heart of the life of the village, but merely as equal members in their quiet society.

Central to the discussion was the fact that the ancient betrothal covenant that tied their families together was a tradition, but not a necessity to meet the "business in blood" clause of the contract. The betrothal agreement specified marriage between members of their brethren, but it could be upheld in each generation by any two members of the community. Most shocking of all was the realization by the Reverend Griffith that spiritually their "community" was inclusive of the world as dictated by the origins of their "one world" spirituality. The real meaning of "business in blood" was to uphold their honor of business relationships as one would uphold their honor in kinship, friendship or in marriage.

"I can't understand it," Anthony Figalilly was saying, "How is it possible that something we have all lived by for centuries…"

"No one ever questioned it before," his wife answered before he had concluded his question. "We all lived comfortably under a false assumption, that's all. If that company hadn't stuck their noses into our business and challenged our holdings…"

"No one would have challenged the validity of the contract," Cholmondeley finished her thought with a glance at Hal, "and in particular the validity of the betrothal agreements."

"Such an old-fashioned custom," Dr. Tressler interjected. "I find it hard to believe no one ever broke the covenant before."

"There was no reason to break with the tradition," Rose Figalilly replied. "We are all so happy here, everyone gets along, and nothing ever came between betrothed couples."

"But any two people can honor the contract." Hal's statement was firm.

"Yes," Dr. Breskin confirmed. "From the original language there was no family or families in power in this community. There is no purity of bloodlines because there are no leaders. We couldn't find any clear indication of surnames referenced in the first text."

Tressler nodded and added, "The hierarchy system of land and business owners evolved during the first translation to Old English, an assumption made due to the cultural standards of the time. All farming practices were overseen by one family – the Figalilly's – and that was reinforced again during the agricultural revolution to protect the land."

"And it also protected the spiritual practices of the people to stay connected to the land. To treat the land and all of God's creatures with the same respect as one treats one's human family," Reverend Griffith supplied.

"Then the production and distribution of goods were put under the guidance of another family – the Featherstonehaugh's – and that decision was only made stronger by the industrial revolution. The family continued to uphold the values of the community by honoring the environment and respecting worker agreements to ensure peace and prosperity for everyone." Miller Tressler stretched his arms above his head. "This will make an excellent topic for my next book."

"Oh, please don't do that," Rose Figalilly looked alarmed. "All of this has been quite enough public discussion to get used to. We all have to acclimate ourselves to some rather big changes now."

"The world is changing, my dear," Reverend Griffith smiled his warm, broad smile at everyone. "And it is getting smaller. Perhaps our ancestors were right when they included everyone in our 'brethren'. That is just the way God intended."

"But will all of this – evidence – be accepted by our solicitors or the executives of that company?" Anthony Figalilly questioned. "Or must a marriage between a Figalilly and a

Featherstonehaugh take place?"

"Hal asked the very same thing," Cecily said and squeezed her father's hand. "When I spoke with our solicitors this afternoon they agreed we had a very sound argument. Of course when they arrive they will need to review all the information we have collected, but if we can back everything up with enough scientific explanation and evidence – they didn't think the company's claims of our breaking the 'business in blood' contract would hold."

He looked thoughtful. "Then any marriage, any marriage at all, will fulfill the betrothal agreement." The man turned wide, blue eyes first to Cholmondeley and then to Hal. "All of this was done to dissolve the betrothal covenant so the wedding won't take place tomorrow. Has this been what it's all been about?"

Rose Figalilly followed Anthony's gaze and looked at the two men being confronted by her husband. Patting his hand comfortingly, she echoed the reverend's words, "The world is changing, my dear."

XXXXXXXXX

It was nearing midnight when all of the lawyers and company representatives finally left the house. After such a hard day's work, both Robert Breskin and Miller Tressler were staying the night with the Figalilly's. They were shown to their rooms while Reverend Griffith departed for home.

"Well, it seems we won't be in-laws after all, at least not tomorrow." Cholmondeley remarked to the Figalilly's with a quick side glance at Cecily.

"I'm very proud of you, my girl," Anthony said to his daughter. "Seems you have saved our village and also saved us the expense of a wedding."

"Oh, Father." Cecily kissed his cheek then took Cholmondeley's arm, "I'll see you out," she said to him. Smiling, Cholmondeley picked up his hat and waved a cheerful goodbye to the Figalilly's and Hal.

"Difficult to believe, isn't it, Love," Anthony remarked to his wife.

"It seems nearly impossible." She shook her head and looked at Hal. "This was all your doing, wasn't it?"

"Well, I…" Hal hesitated a moment before continuing. "I only made the connections…"

"What amazing connections, my boy!" The gentleman exclaimed. "And that it took someone outside the village to make such a discovery…You must have been very motivated, son."

"He was." Rose was smiling at him. Then suddenly remembering, she gasped, "We must tell Phoebe!"

Hal stood up. "I'll do that. Where is she?"

"Probably in the barn, son," Anthony said. "She told me she hasn't been sleeping well and that's where she goes when…"

The younger man didn't wait for the rest of the explanation and rushed out of the room.

"Hmmm, well I'll be," Anthony mused. "What do you make of that?"

Rose patted his arm and turned her smiling face to him. "I don't think we saved the expense of a wedding, my dear."

XXXXXXXXX

The Devonshire rain was falling hard as Hal ran out the front door. He hadn't bothered to take an umbrella or raincoat and didn't stop to put on his own jacket. The grounds were not well lighted, but he remembered where the barns were as he headed across the fields. Nearing the first structure, he pulled at the wide, red door and hoped Phoebe would be inside. If she wasn't here, he would keep trying until he found…

"Hal!" Phoebe stood when she saw him standing in the doorway. "What are you doing here? How did you know…?"

"Your father told me where I could find you," He was out of breath as he crossed to the enclosure where she was standing. "What are you doing out here?"

"A baby lamb was born tonight," she told him with a small smile. Kneeling next to the small animal and its mother she continued, "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd stay out here for awhile."

Phoebe was stroking the small animal's coat. Dressed in jeans, boots and an oversized jacket, wearing no make up and her thick hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked like a teenaged farm girl. Peering closer, he could see she was still wearing the emerald around her neck.

Crouching next to her, Hal asked. "Is it all right?"

"Oh yes." Not looking at him she again smiled softly at the small lamb. "I've known her mother a long time and just wanted to visit. I love being here among the animals."

"I know," Hal grinned as he ran a hand through his wet hair and wiped the rain off of his face. "I should have known this was where you would be."

Looking up she seemed to really see him and reached out a hand to touch his arm. "You're soaking wet. Why ever did you come out here on a night like this?"

There was a crack of thunder. Hal could hear the rain coming down hard against the barn roof and his expression looked as if just discovering the severity of the weather. He opened his mouth to speak and shivered.

"Let me get you a towel and there must be a warm coat here somewhere," Phoebe started to stand when he stopped her.

"I…I had to see you, had to tell you…"

"Yes?" Her eyes were a shimmering blue and she looked so very sad. For whatever reason, somehow her intuition was failing her now.

"The covenant…Cecily and I have been reviewing it and we discovered there was a flaw in the original translation."

She nodded. "Yes, I know. Cecily has been working with the document for weeks."

"Yes, and the last two days she and I and several professors have been researching it and found…Phoebe, the original translation was wrong. There is proof that the language they thought they were translating was a planned language created by your ancestors, and that the marriage contract was misinterpreted." In his excitement, Hal began to speak rapidly, "Between two philologists, a theologist and an anthropologist we were able to prove the "business in blood" betrothal agreement does not have to be upheld by only your family and Cholmondeley's. Any two families in the village – in fact any two people – can fulfill the marriage pact, and keep all of the business and landholding contracts valid. We were meeting with the lawyers for hours just now – the challenge to claim the village properties has been withdrawn. There is no more threat!"

The impact of what he was saying slowly began making sense to her. "You mean…then the wedding…"

"Won't take place tomorrow!" Hal's smile was beaming. "Cholmondeley already knows about it."

Watching his face, Phoebe finally said, "You discovered this. This was all your idea. You uncovered the clue about the language in the covenant."

"There was something in the structure, something that reminded me of the artificial languages I've been researching…I don't know how I saw it or why I thought of it as I don't know anything about languages or translations…but somehow, the information I was given by the anthropologist back at Clinton and his thoughts that your village was somehow a subgroup of the Dumnonii…" He grinned. "I never would have believed I could understand who you are and where you came from, I just never would have believed…"

"…in the impossible?" There was awe in her voice. "And I didn't believe enough. I should have known that you would have made the impossible happen. That you were brilliant enough to make a miracle."

"I don't know how it all came together – it was like I was experiencing constant flashes of insight and intuition. I don't know how I knew what I knew or how I did what I did." Hal stood and pulled her to her feet. "But you knew I had to come here and had to stay here. I could never have done it without you."

"Me?" She sounded surprised. As he reached for her, Phoebe stepped into his arms. "But I didn't have anything to do with it?"

"You were my inspiration," He whispered close to her lips. "And maybe, just maybe, knowing you and loving you made me a little more open to seeing the world in other ways than simply the scientific one."

Softly Phoebe said, "I told you to have faith in the rightness of things."

Her eyes sparkled silver in that moment before he kissed her. In their kiss the constant powerful hunger and passion now held the promise of fulfilled desire. Everything was slow and unhurried, as if they planned to love to each other for the rest of their lives.

They belonged to each other, and the unlikely choice of choosing their opposite seemed to be an ageless and timeless connection. Finally he knew her, through reason and through love, and holding her again he knew they would be together always.

"Always," she spoke into his ear in her low, smoky voice. Clinging to his wide shoulders, she said in a mischievous tone, "You are getting me all wet."

"That's the chance you take, when you are in love with a desperate man." Hal was kissing her neck and feeling exhilarated being able to kiss her like this after so long. "Nothing was going to stop me from finding you tonight."

"Facing that wedding tomorrow," Phoebe told him, somberly, "I wanted to be alone."

"There is still a wedding scheduled for tomorrow," he said, smiling into her eyes now. "If you still want to have one with a slight change in the program."

"Are you proposing again?" Her smile was radiant once more.

"Only if you will say 'yes'," Hal told her.

"Then do it properly." She pulled out of his embrace and he frowned at her.

"You mean you won't accept unless I'm on my knee?" Sighing, Hal knelt on one knee and took her hand. Patting his trouser pocket he began, "Well, I'm sorry I don't have your...how did this get here?" Reaching into his pocket her pulled out the white and gold candy box.

"How indeed?" Phoebe's eyes were wide but held an impish gleam.

He gave her a skeptical look and grinning, shook his head. Then he held out the box to her.

"Phoebe, will you marry me?"

"Yes," she breathed, "yes, and for always." Phoebe opened the box to reveal one heart-shaped candy. They had both forgotten it still remained there. She removed it and the ring from the box, then handed him the beautiful diamond.

Slipping it onto her finger Hal said, "And this is where it will stay…always." He kissed her hand and standing took her into his arms again.

"Almost midnight," she said softly. Her eyes reflected his love as she placed the dark chocolate into his mouth.

Their lips met and the warmth and the flavor of the wine once again sealed their covenant to one another. Over the rumbling thunder they could hear the midnight church bells ringing in St. Patrick's Day and announcing their wedding day.

XXXXXXXXX

Still operating on adrenaline, the next morning Hal headed to the nursery just after daybreak. Opening the door he was startled to see Nanny Belle setting a tea kettle on to boil in the small kitchenette. The elderly lady was bundled into a thick robe and furry, pink slippers and her long, white hair was tied back in a ribbon.

"Good morning, son," she said without turning from the kettle. "I trust things have been set right on their proper course again."

Nanny Belle then faced him with a happy smile and Hal gave her a puzzled look. Not explaining her statement, she gestured towards one closed door. "The boys are in there. I'll wake Prudence and send her to you. Your tea will be ready when you've finished, and you can have breakfast with the children."

Not bothering to ask questions, Hal nodded his thanks then opened the door to his sons' room. Blinds were drawn against the brightness of the morning, but he could see the delicate, feminine flower pattern of the wallpaper. Butch had been right – the room was decorated for girls. Smiling a little, he wondered if this room had been Phoebe's or Cecily's.

"Dad?" His older son peered at him in the dimness of the room. "What are you doing here?"

He sat on Hal's bed as the boy propped himself up on one elbow. Glancing at the other twin bed in the room he could see Butch was still asleep.

"I wanted to talk to you – all of you – but I wanted to speak with you first." Taking a breath, he began, "Being the oldest, I know you remember your mother the best. Well…"

"Dad," his son interrupted, "we all loved Mom and we know you loved Mom. But she loved all of us too and would want you to get married again. She would want us kids to have a mother again and for us all to be happy."

Surprised, Hal asked, "How did you know what I wanted to talk to you about?"

"We've all been trying to talk to you about it too, Dad," the young man said earnestly.

"We all love Nanny and she's who you love and want to marry, right?"

"Right." He was smiling at his mature and intuitive son. "I guess you all knew all about it. We were going to tell you sooner, but the situation changed and we couldn't get married. Now the situation has changed again and it seems we can get married now."

"What about Mr. Feathers?"

"Well, it's a rather long and complicated story but there is no more reason for Nanny to marry him and she is free to marry me. What I need to discuss with all of you is I am aware how this will change all of our lives and…"

The door creaked opened and Prudence came into the room rubbing sleepy eyes. She shuffled to her father wordlessly, climbed onto his lap and kissed his cheek. Butch shifted in his bed the looked at the others.

"Hey," the younger boy blinked at his father and two siblings, "what's going on?"

"Dad's just telling us he wants to get married again," his brother supplied.

"You do?" Prudence looked at her father with wide, round eyes. Considering the situation she warily asked, "Who do you want to marry, Daddy?"

"Nanny," he told her with a return kiss to her cheek.

"Nanny?" Butch asked. "But I thought she was going to marry Mr. Feathers today?"

"No, that's been called off." Their father smiled at each of them. "So, if you all agree, I am going to marry Nanny and she will be your new mother."

"Great!" Butch sat up with an enthusiastic grin. Prudence's smile was wide and her eyes were shining.

"That will mean some big changes in our lives."

Butch shook his head. "Like what, Dad? Nanny already does everything a mom does – cooking, cleaning, sewing…"

"There is a lot more to being a mother than that, Butch," his father said, "She'll also be my wife and that means…"

"She'll be ours forever, right Daddy?" Prudence asked, hugging him tightly.

"That's right, Darling," he said, smiling.

"And we all get a new baby sister or brother, too," she stated.

"Well," Hal stammered, "not for awhile, Prudence. That's not what – Look, what I want you all to realize is this will be a pretty big change in all of our lives and I want you to know that Nanny – Phoebe – and I want to take all of your feelings into consideration. When we get married today…"

"Today!" Prudence hopped off of his lap to jump up and down in front of him. "Your wedding is today?"

"Yes," he nodded. "That's why she's not here this morning to talk to all of you. We agreed if any of you wanted us to postpone…"

"No!" All three children shouted at once.

"Dad," young Hal gestured at Butch and Prudence and spoke for them all. "We all want Nanny to be our mother. We all want you to be happy and for all of us to be a family – forever." The two younger children were nodding vigorously in agreement.

Hal sighed in relief. "That's wonderful," he told them. Looking at his sons he said, "Then I suppose I can count on you two to stand up with me at the wedding today, and you, "he pointed at Prudence, "to be flower girl for your new mother?"

"Yes!" The little girl shouted then threw her arms around her father's neck and hugged him. Both boys moved to his side and embraced him tightly as well.

"You are all sure about this?" Their father asked them one last time.

"Dad," his oldest son said, "we all love you and we all love Nanny. Do you love her?"

Hal looked into three pairs of eyes and answered them honestly. "Yes, I do."

"And does she love you?" Butch asked his father.

"Yes, son, she does," he said, smiling.

"Then it's all, all right!" Prudence said sagely. Then she kissed her father's cheek with a loud smack that seemed to end the need for any further discussion.

XXXXXXXXX

To say Harold Everett was a nervous bridegroom was a bit of an understatement. The early morning consisted of complex legal paperwork that was rushed through as favors to both Anthony Figalilly and Cholmondeley Featherstonehaugh and left Hal feeling grateful to live in the States. Evidently an international marriage was far more complicated than he had anticipated, although he discovered marrying into a titled family did have advantages when cutting through red tape. He signed his name to several documents he only had the surface understanding of, and had his passport removed and then returned twice.

Late morning consisted of fitting his and the boys' morning coats and trousers, which was when Hal learned the difference between Oxford grey (his coat) and dove grey (his waistcoat), and that his slacks were cashmere striped. Knowing his involvement in his elaborate wedding plans had been miniscule; he still wished he and Phoebe had been able to have the small, intimate wedding he had envisioned in California. Now, looking around the satin draped fourteenth century chapel choked with flowers and packed with guests, he remembered why he and Mary had eloped.

Standing at the altar with his sons, Hal recognized many guests from the wedding announcement party earlier that week. He could even identify others he had met on the farm, in the factory, or in town that were in attendance. Nanny Belle and both Professor Breskin and Professor Tressler were in the church, of course. They sat near all of the Figalilly relatives Hal and his children had met back in the states: Aunt Agatha and Aunt Justine, Uncle Horace and Aunt Henrietta and especially a cheerful Uncle Alfred Wiggins next to Cholmondeley Featherstonehaugh. All in all it was slightly intimidating to Hal, until he noticed two well-dressed gentlemen being escorted to their seats. Robert and Bentley Everett were smiling up at him as they walked down the center aisle. He smiled broadly back at his brothers. Now everything was absolutely perfect for this wedding.

"Uncle Bob and Uncle Ben," Butch said in an enthusiastic whisper. "How did they get here so fast?"

"Don't you know by now that our new Mom can do anything?" Hal whispered back.

Their father grinned at them. To hear Hal call Phoebe "Mom" and admit she could "do anything" was probably the best wedding present he could have given them.

The church chimes began to sound noon. Either because he was nervous, or for luck, Hal smoothed his fingers over his emerald green tie. The phrase _high noon _ran through his head and he wasn't sure if what he heard was a result of his anxiety or Phoebe's sense of humor. Then the traditional Richard Wagner Bridal Chorus began and he felt his heart begin to pound. The entire congregation stood to face his lovely bride.

Prudence led the bridal party wearing a long white dress with a green sash. White and green hair ribbons were woven through her shiny blond hair. Her smile was as bright as Hal had ever seen it as she fluttered white rose peddles before her. Cecily followed dressed in an emerald silk dress displaying a sweet smile of her own. Then, as both Anthony and Rose Figalilly were giving their daughter away in marriage, they proceeded down the aisle with her. The formally dressed gentleman with his genteel lady in her pale green gown presented the perfect picture of a titled English couple.

However, as Hal looked at the party he realized it didn't matter how many people were in the crowd. Not her family, her entire village, the reverend, his brothers or even his own children could distract him from seeing only Phoebe today. The vision of her in her great-great grandmother's dress now reminded him of seeing her in the dress for the first time, and how she had taken his breath away. As she neared the altar, he could see her eyes were on his face, and he somehow knew she was thinking of that same moment. The moment when he realized he was in love with her, when he had wished she would wear this dress for him…and the moment he began to realize she loved him too.

He smiled at her and she returned his smile from beneath her veil. She wore his great-great grandmother's ring, her ring, and it was indeed perfect with her antique dress. Something old. The emerald pendant he had given her the day before sparkled against the cream of the dress. Something new. The lovely, old-fashioned dress itself suited her delicacy and he knew Cecily would wear it for her own wedding in the near future. Something borrowed. And on her right hand was the sapphire her father had given her, the ring he had bought the day she was born and whose stone was shamed by the brilliant color of Phoebe's eyes. Something blue.

Phoebe and her parents stood before the altar. The Reverend Stanley Griffith addressed them:

"We have come together here in celebration of the joining together of Phoebe Figalilly and Harold Everett. Much wisdom, concerning the joining together of two souls, has come our way through all paths of belief, and from many cultures. With each union, more knowledge is gained and more wisdom gathered. Though we are unable to give all this knowledge to these two who stand before us, we can hope to leave with them the knowledge of love and all its strengths and the anticipation of the wisdom that comes with time. Without love, life is nothing; without love, death has no redemption. Love is before life and after death. Love is eternal. As with any aspect of life, marriage has its cycles, its ups and its downs, its trials and its triumphs. With full understanding of this, Phoebe and Harold have come here today to be joined as one in marriage." He paused. "Who gives the bride in marriage?'

"Her mother and I do," Anthony Figalilly responded. Her parents both kissed their daughter's cheek through her veil then took their seats.

Reverend Griffith continued. "Do you, Harold, come to this marriage of your own free will, and have you your family's blessing?"

"I do." his voice was firm.

"Harold and Phoebe, you have a unique responsibility toward one another and by your marriage, you, Phoebe, will also now have a unique relationship to Hal, Butch and Prudence. Do you pledge to them your love and promise to strive to understand their needs and desires in the years to come?"

"I do." Phoebe nodded. Then she quoted St. Paul's words to the Corinthians. "If I have prophetic powers and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, but have not love, I am nothing."

"Hal, Butch and Prudence, you are witnessing the marriage of your father to the woman who used to be your nanny but who now will be your stepmother. Do you give to them both your love and your blessing for their life together?"

"I do." Hal said solemnly, as befit the occasion.

Butch grinned. "I sure do!"

Prudence merely nodded, her face wreathed in smiles.

"Phoebe and Harold, please join hands." Phoebe handed Cecily her bouquet of white roses and Hal took her hand in his. The reverend continued, "As time passes, remember that your love should be firm as the ground beneath your feet, and as constant as the stars above your head. Let the powers of the mind and of the intellect guide you in your marriage, let the strength of your wills bind you together, let the power of love and desire make you happy, and the strength of your dedication make you inseparable. Be close, but not too close. Possess one another, yet be understanding. Have patience with one another, for storms will come, but they will pass quickly. Be free in giving affection and warmth. Have no fear, for God is with you always."

"Now, Harold, as you place the ring on Phoebe's finger repeat after me." Young Hal handed his father the platinum wedding band, and as he turned back to his bride, he looked deeply into her eyes. The Reverend Griffith began and Hal obediently said after him, "I, Harold Everett, by the life that courses within my blood... and the love that resides within my heart, take thee, Phoebe Figalilly, to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one. To desire thee and be desired by thee, to possess thee and be possessed by thee, without sin or shame, for none can exist in the purity of my love for thee. I promise to love thee wholly and completely without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and beyond, where we shall meet, remember, and love again. I shall not seek to change thee in any way. I shall respect thee, thy beliefs, thy people, and thy ways as I respect myself." Hal placed the ring on Phoebe's left hand.

The reverend then turned to the bride and with a smile said, "Now, Phoebe, as you place the ring on Harold's finger repeat after me." Cecily handed her the matched wedding band and she looked up into Hal's eyes again. Reverend Griffith intoned the vows, and Phoebe repeated them in her clear, soft voice, "I, Phoebe Figalilly, by the life that courses within my blood... and the love that resides within my heart, take thee, Harold Everett, to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one. To desire thee and be desired by thee, to possess thee and be possessed by thee, without sin or shame, for none can exist in the purity of my love for thee. I promise to love thee wholly and completely without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and beyond, where we shall meet, remember, and love again. I shall not seek to change thee in any way. I shall respect thee, thy beliefs, thy people, and thy ways as I respect myself." She then placed the ring on Hal's left hand.

Reverend Griffith cleared his throat and addressed the couple before him. "Love is more than a feeling, it's a commitment. It's a commitment to work things out and to resolve the issues; to communicate when it's hard to and to forgive each other and start fresh each day. Good marriages take time and effort to build. They don't just happen. Phoebe and Harold you have chosen each other in love and freedom. You have declared your purpose before your family and friends gathered here today and you have made your pledges one to the other. By the power vested in me by God and the County of Devon, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May your love so endure that its flame remains a sign of the fire within your hearts, and may that fire burn as long as the stars shine."

The Reverend Griffith then announced with a smile that they could kiss.

Hal lifted her veil and Phoebe raised shining eyes to his and smiled a radiant smile just for him. His breath caught again. How could this wonderful woman belong to him? How could he be hers now and always? He didn't understand – and probably never would be able to figure it all out – but what difference could any of those questions matter when he had the answer in his hands.

Cradling her face, she whispered to him, "It's our miracle."

He kissed her then and their sweet and lingering wedding altar kiss carried traces every kiss they had ever shared or would ever share in the long marriage ahead of them. As the sonorous church pipe organ, played Felix Mendelssohn's Wedding March around them, Phoebe Figalilly, the mysterious, mystifying, and unusual nanny came into her own as Phoebe Figalilly Everett, loved and beloved wife and mother.

XXXXXXXXX

Standing in Phoebe's childhood bedroom, Hal fumbled a little while opening the chilled champagne bottle. He tried to tell himself he wasn't nervous, not really, but the excitement of the hurried and eventful day finally caught up with him. He could hardly believe they were married, and on St. Patrick's Day as they had planned, and that she had worn her great-great grandmother's wedding dress and his great-great grandmother's wedding rings. They were all truly a family now, but after the tensions of the past month, and in particular the miraculous incidents of the past two days, this moment seemed nearly surreal.

If the wedding ceremony itself had been beautiful, the party afterwards was extravagant to the extreme. Everyone in the entire village was present, and they all seemed to have a marvelous time. He was rapturous, dancing with his beautiful bride in the ballroom to so many of those old Cole Porter songs including: "Do I Love You?" "I Love You" and "True Love". And he took great joy in seeing his children so happy to have the family complete again. Still, he didn't have eyes or much interest in anyone but his lovely wife, and even resisted spending time with his brothers. Still not understanding how they had managed to find out about the wedding, much less be there in time, was something he simply decided to accept. Bob and Ben hadn't been at his first wedding, and their presence this time meant a lot to him. And it made things all the better that they were staying with the kids in England for the week, and traveling back to the States with them. That meant he and Phoebe could return to California alone for the house-bound honeymoon they had originally planned.

He felt odd wearing the new silk pajamas and robe he'd found ready for him in this room. And it felt strange that their wedding night would be here, in her virginal bedroom. Her room wasn't as lavish or as large as the guest bedroom that had been his room, but it was warm and feminine, just as she was. Maybe it was fitting for her to be here tonight, this was the home and the room she was to have shared with her betrothed, and possibly after years of dreaming of this night, it was right for her, for them, to be here now. Of course, he thought with an ironic smile to himself, she hadn't anticipated him as her bridegroom.

"You are exactly the bridegroom of my dreams," Phoebe said quietly from the doorway.

The champagne cork popped and Hal looked up startled by both the bottle and her low voice. She was a perfect vision in her delicate white lace peignoir, its long hem trailing behind her as she crossed the room to him. A fire glowed in the small fireplace, and her hair and skin shown luminous in the flickering light. Against the creamy skin of her throat, the emerald sparkled brilliantly. He only remembered to breathe when she reached him.

"May I have a glass?" Phoebe appeared amused at his dazed state.

Hal couldn't help but feel it somehow disconcerting for her to be so self-possessed when he was so flustered. But she always did manage to surprise him, why should tonight be so different?

"Tonight is very different," she said taking the glass of champagne he offered. She was speaking in that smoky bedroom voice he'd first heard so many months ago.

"You're reading my mind again." He touched his glass to hers and hoped she wouldn't notice just how much his hands and his voice were shaking.

Phoebe took a sip of the pale drink then set it aside. Sliding her hands over the dark blue lapels of his dressing gown, she reached her arms around his neck.

"I told you, you can be pretty easy to read sometimes." Raising herself up for a kiss, she whispered, "You are still holding the champagne."

"Oh," Hal pulled away to replace the bottle in the ice bucket and put his glass down. Looking towards the bed, he asked her, "Phoebe, do you see what's on our pillows?"

She followed his gaze and smiled. Turning, she retrieved the two pieces of chocolate that had been left there.

"Cecily's idea," she chuckled.

"She knew about our…" Slightly embarrassed, he flushed a little.

"No, no…it's a custom to leave the candies on the pillow of every bridal suite." Handing him a chocolate she explained, "These are filled with a special passion fruit liqueur. They are supposed to bring fertility – and added passion – to the wedding night."

"Oh?" Hal looked at the treat then looked at her. The expression in his eyes was mischievous. "I don't think we'll need these."

"I know we won't need these." Phoebe's eyes turned dark and a tiny sliver of silver shone in them. She touched the candy to her lips, kissed it then smoothed it across his lips. "For you."

He opened his mouth for the chocolate, his tongue grazing her fingertips. Taking the second treat in his hand, he kissed it then slipped it into her waiting mouth.

In their kiss the sweet tastes of passoa liqueur, chocolate and champagne met with the heady flavor of their own passion. Dimly he could hear the midnight church bells. Always hungry for her, he deepened their kiss, and what had been searching warmth quickly became a yearning heat. Hal held her closely, realizing he could never hold her too closely again. She was his wife now, to have and to hold, and the desire to have her – want her and need her and love her – was fulfilled now and...

_Always. _

No longer startled, he accepted hearing Phoebe's voice in his mind. He understood who she was and he loved her. The sweet chocolate flavor when kissing her mouth held all of the memories of their candy kisses on every holiday since Halloween but now – on their wedding night – as the sweetness faded a darker, possessive passion flared. This was no impish, evasive girl in his arms. She was no pixie, no sprite, and no elusive genie. She was a flesh and blood woman full of desire and the glow in her eyes was fire. She was his wife – an enigma, yes – but this puzzle was all his to decipher now and he would spend forever reveling in her mystery.

Hal gently pulled back from the luscious kiss. "Say your name," he said, teasingly.

Understanding, she smiled and said in her alluring voice, "Mrs. Phoebe Figalilly Everett. I am the woman I was meant to be." Her lips grazed at his sensitive mouth, "And you have set this genie free."

"Say my name." His voice was deep now as he pressed her hard to his chest and lifted her into his arms. Taking the few steps to the bed, he laid them down together on the inviting softness. Her arms welcomed him there, on her childhood bed, as the dream-memories of the girl she had been transformed into the beautiful reality of the woman she was. Whispering his name in a voice so tender, it was only a tiny sigh, she willingly surrendered to his love.

Hal was captivated, spellbound and all sensation. He had set the genie free, and she had granted all of his wishes and more; she had awakened his emotions, and in fact his intellect, in ways he'd never experienced. Even in his youth, when his senses were new, he could never remember soaring to these heights before. More alive now than ever, he looked at her on the bed beside him and beneath him and saw every woman she was to him. Phoebe was a friend, confidant, mother, wife, soul-mate, and lover. He listened to her soft voice and gentle sighs, and the sounds of her passion were darker now than those he'd heard only in firelight. Her softness, her body yielding to his touch – was nothing he could explain – she felt like a perfect dream you barely remember when awake. Her touches – he knew he had never been touched in the ways she could fulfill him – he'd never known his own desires the way she could discern them. Breathing in the scent of her skin, the trace of lavender he knew didn't exist anywhere else – the combination of the familiar and the exotic, the safety of home and the lure of the unknown – he would always identify it simply as her. And her taste – with his mouth on hers he remembered every kiss they had shared on every holiday eve – Valentine's Day, Groundhog Day, New Year's Day, Christmas Day, his birthday, Thanksgiving Day, Halloween…

…Halloween eve again and Hal could hear the university clock in the tower chiming midnight. While kissing Phoebe he thought of his made-up tradition when he told her the year before that if you kiss someone through all twelve strokes of midnight from Halloween eve through to Halloween, you will be immune to any tricks and receive treats lasting all year through. Although that had been a trick to kiss her, it actually proved true for them. They kissed at midnight on the eve of Easter, on the eve of her birthday, on Mother's Day eve and Father's Day eve and even on the eve of the Fourth of July. Each candy kiss brought more luck and more sweetness to their marriage and he knew this next year would bring even greater happiness. Although there were no candy kisses tonight, he thought he could still taste that dark cocoa flavor on her lips. Then he suddenly felt her hand tighten on his.

"O.K., now," he heard the doctor say, "One more big push and that should be it. Are you ready?"

Releasing her lips, Hal gave her hand an answering squeeze and tightened his hold around her shoulders. Looking down into her tired eyes, he gave her a brave smile.

"You can do it, Phoebe. We're almost there. Ready?"

She nodded at him and tried to smile.

"All right now…deep breath and…push!" Hal held her as she gritted her teeth and let out a guttural groan. He kissed her sweaty temple and murmured comfort.

"That's it," the doctor encouraged. "The shoulders are out and…here it comes…" There was a long breathless moment and…

"It's a girl," Dr. Thomas announced.

Both Hal and Phoebe let out a large sigh and looked at each other. Neither realized the other had been crying.

"It's a girl," Hal was smiling so widely it felt like a grimace. "We have a daughter."

"A daughter," Phoebe breathed. "Our baby girl." They were clinging to one another and looking into one another's eyes.

"And she's perfect," the doctor told them. The baby let out a loud cry. "Do you want to cut the cord, Hal?"

"She's perfect," he told his wife. "Do you hear her? Did you hear the doctor? And I'm going to…I'm going to cut the cord.

Phoebe smiled at his stammering as he gently let go of her to go to their daughter. Seeing the baby for the first time, he gasped.

"She's beautiful." He looked back at the exhausted Phoebe. She nodded. He turned again to the baby and did as Dr. Thomas instructed. When the newborn was handed to him, he cradled her to his chest and brought her to her mother.

"She is beautiful," Phoebe agreed, crying and holding the infant close to her. The baby squirmed and spit then cried again. Her parents were mesmerized by her.

After a moment, the nurse came to retrieve the tiny girl. "I need to clean her up and take some measurements. And Dr. Thomas needs to finish up with Phoebe. Don't worry; I'll bring her right back Mommy and Daddy."

"Mommy," Hal said looking into Phoebe's eyes and smiling.

"Daddy," she answered, crying fresh, happy tears. He kissed her lips tenderly. Phoebe knew what it meant to him to be in the delivery room for the birth of their child. He had never had the opportunity with his other three children and was overjoyed to be present and experience the birth of this one. And although she had adopted his children, this was her first baby. He had been a father for over fourteen years and they had been parenting together for nearly three years, but today the child they had together gave them each a new experience as parents.

"She's doing great," the doctor said. "She's a little small, but that's not unexpected at thirty-seven weeks. She's full term, so I don't think she'll have any problems." The baby was crying again and Dr. Thomas grinned. "She has very strong pair of lungs." He touched the back of Phoebe's hand and shook Hal's. "And you guys did great. I'll see you later."

"Thirty-seven weeks," Hal mused. "I was so worried it was too early. You said…" He looked thoughtful.

Phoebe's tired smile was wide. "For a brilliant mathematician, it appears you need a refresher on your basic arithmetic skills."

He frowned, obviously calculating furiously in his head.

"Here she is," the nurse laid the clean, pink bundle in her mother's arms. "We'll be taking you both to your room soon."

Hal gave up his mental gymnastics to admire his youngest daughter and his lovely wife. Kissing Phoebe on the forehead again he told her, "I'm very proud of you. You are very brave and very beautiful and I love you." Kissing her lips he whispered, "Thank you."

"I love you," she said softly and smiled. "Happy Halloween."

Looking down and the yawning newborn he asked, "So, what should we name her? Jeannie?" He was referring to the seducing harem girl that had started it all.

"Hmmm," She considered the name as she gazed into her daughter's tiny face.

"She does look just like you," Hal said, happily. He stroked the baby's smooth cheek and she opened her blue eyes wider. "We can name her after you."

"Except she has your eyes," Phoebe said, smiling.

"Yes, but we can't name her after me."

"I thought we had decided on Melissa." She said and Hal nodded agreeably. "All right then, it's settled: Melissa Valentine."

"Melissa…?"

Phoebe looked down at the small girl in her arms then lifted bright eyes to her husband. Reaching for his hand she said, "I told you to have faith in the rightness of things. And that things will work out for the best for all concerned."

"But we almost didn't…almost couldn't…get married." Hal's thoughts were spinning. "What if…? Did you know then that...?"

Phoebe shook her head. "I only knew that I had faith in you and that I loved you. Always."

Hal sighed. "That's all I can be sure of too. And it's the only answer that matters: I love you. Always."

He kissed her again as the baby gurgled happily in her mother's arms. The newborn looked up at her parents and her round blue eyes flashed silver.

This is the end of the "holiday series" of stories. Thanks to everyone who has read them and to all who reviewed them. Feedback is always very welcome! My very special thanks to my terrific, generous beta RevSue for her permission to use the wedding ceremony I have included in this story. This edited segment comes from her **Nanny and the Professor & Ghost and Mrs. Muir Cross** story. You can find it with her other stories on fan fiction net. That story is wonderful and I'd recommend it to everyone!


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